Figure Study 23
by DareU2Bme
Summary: The summer before his senior year, Puck meets Mrs. Miller, an interesting elderly lady. At her influence, he takes up a new hobby which inadvertently leads to a lot of lifestyle changes and personal growth for Puck. One of these said changes is his view of Kurt Hummel.
1. An Introduction

**Title**: Figure Study #23  
**Pairings**: Puck/Kurt  
**Rating**: R  
**Spoilers**: This is mostly AU...

**Summary**: The summer before his senior year, Puck meets Mrs. Miller, an elderly lady. At her influence, he takes up a new hobby which inadvertently leads to a lot of lifestyle changes and personal growth for Puck. One of these said changes is his view of Kurt Hummel. _Klainers can rest easy because there is no Klaine and so, no Blaine-bashing in this AU... as if I would bash my sweet Baby Blaine. _

**Author's Note:**This was a spur of the moment thing. We'll see how far I go with it.

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**Figure Study #23**

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It had simultaneously been a long and short summer for Puck. Long because of all the changes and personal growth he had undergone and short because having such an eventful summer meant that it felt like it had gone by quickly. Puck had spent the first half of his summer cleaning pools and hooking up with the women who owned them. But, it was during one of his pool cleaning jobs that everything changed. He had silently bemoaned his current client, an elderly couple probably in their 70s or 80s who had a small specialized pool for their all their achy, senior citizen issues, but once he had arrived; he had been instantly captivated by something he had never given a passing thought before. Art.

Mrs. Miller was standing in front of a wooden easel on the back stone patio, a classic wood palette in one hand, a long-handled paintbrush in the other, and a smear of dark purple across her chin. Puck dropped his gear unceremoniously on the perfectly manicured lawn to get her attention.

"Ah, Mister Puckerman," she said, looking away from the canvas she had been regarding with a shrewd expression and smiling warmly at him. "I'm glad you could make it."

She looked at the watch on her left wrist before looking back at him with a smile.

"And only twenty minutes late," she offered with, her thin, age-spotted lips turning up into a smirk.

"Not bad for me," replied Puck cockily, though he didn't feel half as cocky as he hoped he sounded.

It was hard to keep up the confident, badass charade when there was no sexy cougars to tease, just a little old lady who looked like all she could do for him was bake him a batch of cookies (and not in an innuendo sense). His smirk faltered when she lifted an eyebrow at him. It had reminded him of another 'lady' he knew and he randomly wondered how Kurt Hummel was spending his summer. It was a weird thought, considering he hardly gave any of the glee kids much thought outside of school, especially not Lady Hummel.

"I'll just get right to it, then," stammered Puck gruffly after a nervous swallow.

The elderly women pushed her glasses up her nose with her pinky finger, paint brush still in hand, and nodded at Puck before turning back to her canvas. Puck craned his neck to try to catch a glimpse of what she was painting but it would be impossible to see from his angle without making it obvious he was curious, and let's face it, The Puckzilla was not interested in a little old lady's painting. It was probably an old fashioned, super clichéd painting of her Irises or something. That's right, Puck knew what Irises were and that was totally not gay of him, either. You spend as much time in people's backyards as Puck and you learn a thing or two about landscaping. Those purple things were definitely Irises and seeing as Mrs. Miller had purple paint on her face, Puck reasoned his judgmental guess was spot on.

Puck rifled through his cleaning supplies before selecting what he needed and getting started on the Miller's pool. The pool was small so it should have taken him less time to clean than the others and he wasn't being constantly interrupted by horny housewives in bikinis, but the specialized pool had more jets to pay special attention to and, besides that, Puck couldn't help but be curious of Mrs. Miller and her painting. He worked silently for fifteen minutes, every once in a while looking up to check of Mrs. Miller who was still standing at her canvas. He would catch himself staring at the way her facial expressions changed while he arm moved quickly as she brushed over the surface of the canvas before mixing colours together on her wooden palette.

Despite having dismissed it as some domestic craft when he had first arrived, he couldn't keep his mind off of the painting. He wanted to know what she was painting. He was curious as to why it caused her to look so pensive at times and radiant at others. For such an aged woman with a face full of lines and age spots, she looked amazing when she painted.

"It really is something to watch an artist work, isn't it," came a quiet, low voice from next to Puck and he startled so hard he nearly dropped his leaf skimmer into the pool.

"Easy son," laughed the voice and Puck turned to see a short old man dressed in an olive green sweater and tan trousers standing next to him. "You sure are a jumpy one."

"Mr. Miller?" ventured Puck.

"Yes?" answered the old man, giving Puck a curious look.

Puck shrugged and turned his attention back on Mrs. Miller standing on the opposite side of the pool. She was tapping her right hand against her chin thoughtfully and Puck suddenly knew why her face kept getting more and more paint on it. Her face lit up as if in silent 'eureka' and she quickly put her brush back to the canvas.

"Do you paint?" asked Mr. Miller in his aged voice.

"No," replied Puck, shaking his head. "No, never."

"You should try sometime," replied Mr. Miller with a tired smile. "Even if you're no good at it like me, it can be quite... therapeutic."

Puck furrowed his brow and gave Mr. Miller a look that plainly said he had absolutely no use for such sissy stuff. Mr. Miller simply smiled at him before hobbling around the outside of the pool and across the intricate stonework of the ground-level patio to join his wife. Puck went back to work but watched the two out of the corner of his eye.

Later, when he had finished cleaning the Miller's pool and had all his gear packed into the box of his junky pick-up truck, Puck tracked down Mr. Miller to get his pay. He had wanted to use it as an excuse to approach Mrs. Miller and see what she had been working on, but she, along with her easel and art, had disappeared while Puck had been loading his equipment into his truck. He called into the house from the patio screen door, instead, and Mr. Miller appeared moments later.

"Come in," said Mr. Miller, opening the screen door and beckoning Puck inside. "I'll just go get my chequebook."

Puck rolled his eyes and fidgeted while he stood just inside the patio door on the edge of the connected living and dining rooms. He was overheated and hungry and in a sour mood because taking this particular job meant he didn't get an afternoon fuck like he had become accustomed to over the past month. It was then that he noticed the large painting hanging on the adjoining wall directly over a white chesterfield.

It was a flower, but it was so more than that. It was vibrant and colourful and bursting with energy and life. It almost looked like it was on fire with a centre of red and yellow and petals that looked like licks of flame. The blue greens at the bottom were cooler and more peaceful, like a fountain of water on a hot day. If Puck squinted, the whites and reds and yellows almost looked like feathered wings. It was so many things. It was life. Puck was mesmerized by it.

"You like it? It's my wife's," came Mr. Miller's low voice surprising Puck out of his reverie.

"You sure are a jumpy one," chuckled the old man as he scribbled with a shaky hand on a cheque in his black, leather-bound chequebook.

Puck blinked slowly.

"You... you mean Mrs. Miller painted that?" he asked incredulously.

"Yep," chirped the old man as he jerkily tore out the cheque and held it out to Puck with a shaky hand. "She teaches a class on Fridays. If you're curious, you should come by. She has them in the conservatory."

He pointed with the jut of his chin out toward the glass-walled and roofed sun room attached to the far side of the back of the large house. Puck was pensive for a moment but then let out a little chuckle, turning his persona back on.

"Sorry, but that doesn't sound like my scene," said Puck with grin and a lowered eyebrow.

"You know where we are if you change your mind," said the old man who stood slightly hunched over. "It's at seven o'clock."

Puck rolled his eyes. He pocketed the cheque and thanked Mr. Miller for his business before leaving through the patio door. As he crossed the backyard to head to his truck parked out front, he passed the back door of the conservatory. The canvas Mrs. Miller has been working on was leaning against the side of the building to dry. Puck paused to give it a curious once-over. It was indeed a painting of the purple Irises growing in her back garden, but like the large painting in their living room, it was so much more. If he didn't know better, Puck would have thought it was animated. The Irises looked as if they were moving in a dance across the canvas. Their bright purples were alive and three-dimensional; their stems were chains holding them to the earth while their green leaves were arms stretching out toward freedom. Puck inhaled a sharp breath, suddenly realizing he had stopped breathing.

"I haven't decided on a name for it, yet," said Mrs. Miller, suddenly standing at his side, wiping her hands with a rag. "But I'm quite happy with how it turned out."

"It's me," whispered Puck hoarsely, ignoring the fact that the Millers seemed to have a weird thing for sneaking up on people.

"What?" asked Mrs. Miller in surprise.

"The painting," explained Puck, clearing his throat a few times in an attempt to retrieve his regular speaking voice. "It's me."

"No," replied Mrs. Miller slowly as if talking to a confused child. "It's a painting of my Irises."

Puck shook his head when she gestured to the patch of purple and white Irises growing in her garden along her clichéd little white picket fence.

"No," said Puck, rubbing his fingers over his sweaty brow. "It's me. Look at how they are struggling, like they don't know what to do with themselves. At first you think they are dancing, like they love their lives, but when you really look, you can see they are fighting to free themselves..."

He let his voice taper off as he spoke, his explanation going unfinished, his thought process left to continue silently in his head. His eyes began to fill with tears.

"Noah?" asked Mrs. Miller in concern.

"Nothing," said Noah, suddenly and dismissively. "Nevermind."

He wiped the back of his hand quickly across his face to clear it of any signs of weakness before flashing the older woman a forced smile.

"See you around, Mrs. Miller," he said before briskly walking away.

Puck had blared his music as he drove away. Letting the screeching electric guitars, banging drums, and raging voices take over his conscious as he drove to his next job. He didn't think about the Millers or the flower paintings or the opening invitation to Mrs. Miller's painting class again until three days later.

It was a Thursday and He was allowing Mrs. De Luca to lead him into her empty house. She had interrupted him as he was cleaning of her pool with an impromptu make-out session. As he stalked after her, though, his attention was caught by a vivacious green and red painting hanging on the wall at the bottom of the extravagant staircase. Dick already half hard and chest heaving with excitement, Puck stopped short at the bottom of the staircase. He tilted his head to the side and stared at the painting. Though he had never seen it before, the style of it looked familiar. The background was all greens and aqua blues, and in the foreground was a simple partially opened red Carnation. Somehow, the picture looked incredibly sad and something in Puck's chest twisted painfully.

"Noah?" called out Mrs. De Luca in a succulent sexy voice from above. "Are you coming?"

Tearing his eyes away from the painting, Noah smirked.

"Not yet," he called back in a growly voice. "But soon we both will be."

He gave the painting one last once over, noticing the artist's signature scratched out messily at the bottom corner, 'Miller', before running up the stairs to join Mrs. De Luca who was most likely already waiting for him in the master bedroom.

After his encounter with Mrs. De Luca, Puck couldn't get his mind off of Mrs. Miller and her lively and personifying flower paintings. By the time seven o'clock came around the next evening, Puck found himself sitting in his truck parked on the side of the road in front of the Miller's house. His hands were clenched around his steering wheel as he stared angrily down the street mentally telling himself this was stupid.

"Fuck it," he finally said after ten minutes had ticked by and he turned off the truck and got out.

He slammed the door making the whole truck rock lightly and stormed up the front steps of the Miller's house. With an angry, jerking movement, he raised his hand and pressed the doorbell. Moments later Mr. Miller opened the door and smiled brightly through the storm door at Puck.

"Noah," he rasped out brightly. "I'm glad you decided to come."

Mr. Miller opened the storm door and let Puck inside. Letting the screen door fall shut, he led Puck through the cluttered house toward the sun room or _conservatory _as he had so pompously called it earlier that week. Puck rolled his eyes at himself, Mr. Miller wasn't pompous at all, he really needed to stop judging people.

The elderly man pushed open the door into the sun room to reveal Mrs Miller standing at the front of the room working away at a canvas on an easel and three other senior citizens standing at similar easels working their own paintings.

"We have a late-comer," called out Mr. Miller after clearing his throat to get his wife's attention.

Puck did an internal groan as all the old people looked in his direction. This had been a huge mistake. He wasn't even sure why he had come in the first place. He wondered if he could just turn and make a run for it.

"Noah," called Mrs. Miller happily. "Come in! Let's get you set up."

Noah tried to smile at her but he knew it came out as more of a grimace. She paid it no heed, though, and set up a fifth easel with a blank canvas before pulling out a few brushes, a new wooden palette and a set of tubes of paint. She directed Noah to stand in front of the easel and stuck the palette in his hand before beginning to squeeze out various different colours of paint onto it. Noah watched her in shocked silence.

"We're practising some simple still-life's tonight," she explained as she continued to put dollops of paint on his artist's palette. "See the bowl of fruit on the table?"

Hesitantly, Noah turned his dazed gaze away from the palette in his hand to the table at the front of the room draped in a lacy white table cloth where a grey ceramic bowl filled with various fruits was perched. He furrowed his brow and looked at Mrs. Miller.

"You expect me to paint that?" he asked in disbelief.

"That's the plan," chirped Mrs. Miller light-heartedly as she recapped the last tube of paint. "Have you ever used oil paint before?"

"No," replied Puck. "I haven't used any paint before, other than finger painting in preschool."

"Oh!" exclaimed Mrs. Miller, her wrinkled face pulling into an excited smile. "Well, this will be fun, then."

She passed Puck a long-handled paint brush with a bright smile and he took it with a frightened frown.

"The thing you want to remember when using oils," she said it as Puck fumbled to hold the paint brush in his fingers like he had seen her doing earlier that week. "Is to work from dark to light. It is different than working with watercolours. You paint on the dark colours first and then go back in to add the light ones. Also, oil paint takes forever to dry, so try not to put the paint on too thickly."

Puck just stared at her dumbly.

"Alright," she said, clapping her hands together excitedly. "Let's get started."

With that, she walked away with movements that were strangely graceful despite her decrepit hobbling. As she turned her back to him to go back to her own painting, Puck leaned over, craning his neck to look at the other people's paintings. The old lady standing next to him glared at him and moved to block his view of her painting. Puck rolled his eyes and sent her an angry glare before turning back to his blank canvas.

"Well," he said quietly to himself, taking in a deep breath and letting it out. "Here goes nothing."

And that was house Puck found himself spending the rest of his summer. He would clean pools during the day, sleeping with lonely house wives where applicable, and then drive over to the Miller's on Friday evenings to paint with a group of senior citizens. At first it was a struggle for him to make the globs of paint on his canvas look anything like the items he was painting. Mrs. Miller was adamantly for method learning and simply had him paint, giving him helpful tips and kind comments throughout his process. He actually picked it up rather quickly, to the dismay of Mrs. Miller's other students. His brush strokes were long and sure while the old ladies' hands shook leaving stuttering strokes on their own canvases.

Puck was finding himself less interested in his afternoon fucks and more excited about the way the light hit different objects or how he noticed an array of colours in items that he had originally thought were one flat colour. Soon, he was showing up at the Miller's house on evenings other than just Fridays to spend time painting with Mrs. Miller. He lost a few of his pool-cleaning clients when he had turned into the pool boy who actually just cleaned pools but he didn't mind so much.

As the summer drew to an end, Puck had only half the clientele that he had at the beginning of the summer, but there was a corner of the Miller's storage shed dedicated to the collection of paintings he had completed and a growing corner of his brain dedicated to things like how he liked to thin his paint with walnut oil or how he had noticed that shadows are actually blue, sometimes an indigo purple, not black or grey. Puck was seeing the world in a whole different light and in doing so, and for the first time in a long time, he was excited about life.

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**a/n: **Hey, thanks for reading, this is something of an experiment for me so your comments and reviews would be absolutely lovely.**  
**

**fyi: **So, just to help you wrap your head around this particular story, I should tell you that while this story is loosely based on canon season 1 and 2 of Glee, there are a lot of things that aren't exactly the same. So, I won't give everything away to you in a little author's note, but just don't assume anything is just like canon until you've read it in this story.**  
**


	2. A New School Year

**Title**: Figure Study #23  
**Pairings**: Puck/Kurt  
**Rating**: R  
**Spoilers**: This is mostly AU...

**Warning:** Rude language. Puck's internal dialogue.

**Summary**: The summer before his senior year, Puck meets Mrs. Miller, an elderly lady. At her influence, he takes up a new hobby which inadvertently leads to a lot of lifestyle changes and personal growth for Puck. One of these said changes is his view of Kurt Hummel. -Klainers can rest easy because there is no Blaine-bashing in this story. There was never Klaine in this verse._  
_

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**Figure Study #23**

**A NEW SCHOOL YEAR  
**

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The beginning of the new school year was like an abrupt awakening from a dream. The self-employed boy named Noah who cleaned pools for a living, who arrived on time (sometimes early) to his jobs, who worked hard and efficiently, and who got tips for a job well-done and not for sexual favors was the new face of Noah Puckerman. He was the kind of boy who noticed the subtle array of colours in each blade of grass, who could spot different abstracted forms in the fluffy white clouds that lazily moved across the sky, who spent his evenings chatting with an elderly lady while they both painted pictures in a glass-walled conservatory. The cocky ladies-man persona had faded dramatically over the summer and this new identity had taken over. Unfortunately, this new side of Noah was only in its infant stage. It was precious and fragile and not at all ready for the sudden attack of the reputation that preceded and waited for him within the walls of McKinley High.

There had been a small amount of change in the Puck of the years before. Through the course of his Sophomore and Junior years, he went from simply being resident bad-ass to being someone who, though he still held the bad-ass status, was slightly more complex. He was a member of the glee club, he was the guy who had a baby with Quinn Fabray, he had befriended a lot of the gleeks, he was the guy who fell in love with Lauren Zizes, and he was even the guy who cared enough to run for Junior Prom King. Under all that, though, he was still a Lima Loser and feared by most of the nerds, he was still insecure and a man-whore, he was still just Puck. So, when he walked through those front doors of William McKinley Senior High, the artistic dreamer dissipated and the old persona was easily refitted like armor before a battle.

"Puckaroni!" called out a masculine voice as Puck strode down the busy hallway, backpack slung over his shoulder and mohawk extra squirrely from its growth over the summer.

Puck tilted his head to the side and eyed the group of four jocks as they walked past him.

"Got any new bangs to tell us about?" asked the jock who had called out to him.

"Of course he does, moron," said another jock, reaching to smack the other up the back of the head in a gesture that reminded Puck of his mom when he took too large a helping at supper time. "He's been _cleaning pools_ all summer."

"Save it for the locker room, boys," purred Santana as she pushed through the group of jocks to put her arm through Puck's.

She winked at one of them as she pressed close to Puck and led him away from the group. One of the boys catcalled as the group continued in the opposite direction down the hall.

"What do you want, Santana?" asked Puck once they were out of earshot of the group of jocks.

"Hello to you, too," snapped Santana with a bitchy glare but her hands still remained wrapped around Puck's bicep,

She let out a long-suffering sigh and continued to walk in step with Puck as he marched down the hall to reclaim his locker from the years before. She let go of his arm when he reached his locker and stood back when he threw open the door.

"So, I was thinking," she said, crossing an arm across her torso and lifting her other hand to stare nonchalantly at her fingernails. "Karofsky's gone so I'm in need of a beard and you could use a little lift in your rep seeing as word has it you were dropped by the Endangered White Rhino because you couldn't get it up for her massive..."

"Shut it," hissed Puck, whipping around to glower at her.

"Oooh," replied Santana, raising her hands in mock defence. "So it _is_ true. I guess the sex shark doesn't have the same sort of appetite when it comes to whales. Not that I blame you, I just can't figure out why you ever went after her to begin with."

Puck simply continued to glare at her; it wasn't worth the effort to correct her.

"Well, anyway," she said with a roll of her eyes followed by a bored expression. "As I was saying, we could both benefit from it and it isn't like it would be particularly new territory for either of us. So hows about it?"

Puck remained silent while he contemplated Santana's request, because even if she had tried to word it so it didn't sound as such, that was what it was; a request. He hung his backpack up in his locker and unzipped it to pull out his new binder and notebooks, inwardly smiling to himself when Santana began tapping her foot on the floor impatiently.

Finally, after Puck had finished taking extra time to organize his school supplies and his locker just to irritate her, Santana's patience had finally run through. She huffed out an exaggerated sigh of annoyance and opened her mouth to speak but Puck cut her off.

"So, you want me to be your fake-boyfriend so that you and Brittany can get it on all year without people whispering about you in the halls," asked Puck in a disbelieving tone. "And you think that I'll... what? ...just be celibate all year so I'll appear _faithful_? As if I'd do a closed-relationship with you even if you were putting out."

Puck noticed her frown insecurely for a brief moment before she quickly reattached her game face.

"Look, it's not like you haven't already cycled through all the girls here as it is," she said, frustration evident in her voice but Puck could see a little desperation in her eyes. "_And_ the moms of most of the boys. So, unless you plan on pulling a Kurt Hummel and working through all the guys, you'll be backtracking over the same old territory anyway."

"And _that_ would be worse than fucking nothing?" asked Noah quietly. "Because I don't see that I owe you anything Miss Bi..."

"What would be worse? Doing as Lady Lips does and perving over all the boys?" cut in Santana with an angry gleam.

"For someone who isn't so _straight_ herself, you sure talk a lot of smack about Kurt," hissed Puck, turning from her to roughly grab his binder from his locker and slam it shut just as the warning bell rang.

He had meant recycling his old lays. Considering they were in high school and some of those girls' breasts were still growing, it really wasn't that much of a problem to check back in with a few of them a year later. He couldn't help the spike of anger that flooded through his system at Santana's words, though. He wasn't sure if it was because she was implying he might be gay or that she was saying offensive things about Kurt who she was _supposedly_ friends with, but he balled his fists in angry, regardless.

"Oh, please, like you don't say worse," she retorted.

Puck opened his mouth to reply but stopped short when he looked beyond Santana to see Kurt walking down the hall in a Cheerios uniform. His eyes widened and his mouth fell open. Kurt had definitely grown since the last time he had worn the uniform.

"Speak of the devil," exclaimed Puck, gesturing so that Santana would turn to look. "Did you know about this?"

"No!" exclaimed Santana in shock which surprised Puck considering how close the two had grown over junior year.

And then she was gone, following after Kurt at a quick, angry gait. He must have noticed her, because he had quickened his own walk and was making a point of pretending he didn't see her. Puck chuckled darkly before stepping out into the busy hall to head toward his first class. He was relieved to have gotten rid of Santana but a little shocked at himself for having been affected by Kurt. It wouldn't leave his mind, either; the way the red polyester pants had hugged Kurt's thighs and ass, how the top had tapered in to show the stark difference between the width of his chest and the size of his waist, how his neck looked longer and his hair was coiffed perfectly in a modern pompadour.

"What the hell?" Puck questioned of himself in exasperation.

He reasoned that it was because he hadn't been getting much 'action' in the past couple months and Hummel in a cheerleader's uniform had just been shocking enough to mess with his brain.

His morning classes had all been a piece of cake. Even though the teachers had warned that Senior year was going to be harder than the years before, they had all been pretty lenient on the first day of school. When lunch came around, Puck had sauntered into the cafeteria and grabbed at tray to start loading up on some 'sustenance'. Two cheese burgers, a plate of tater tots and a few carrot sticks later (only because the lunch lady had given him a judgmental look when he had passed by the salad), Puck turned away from the food line and was suddenly presented with a dilemma. Who should he sit with?

Finn and Rachel were seated at one table with Tina and Mike. Puck and Finn were _okay_, but the tight friendship they had before never really quite recovered from the entire Quinn pregnancy fiasco. Rachel absolutely irritated him, even though they had a fifteen minute romance back when he was trying to appease him mom by dating a Jewish girl. Tina and Mike were cool, but he wouldn't necessarily call them friends. Actually, he couldn't really think of anyone he would especially call a friend.

Puck clenched his jaw and glanced around the rest of the room. Mercedes was sitting with Shane at a table filled with random kids he didn't recognize. It was obvious she and Shane had something going on, Puck raised an eyebrow. One table over sat a group of Cheerios including Santana, Brittany and Kurt. Santana was giving Kurt angry looks, but Kurt seemed to be ignoring her bitch face and instead conversing with a redhead Puck thought might have been Tiffany. He wasn't certain if that was her name, but he did remember that she did a really cool rolling thing with her tongue when she kissed.

Strando and Azimo and a few other football players he didn't get along with were sitting not far from the Cheerios table and were quite obviously running their mouths about Kurt. Puck's grip on his tray tightened as he watched them smirk at Kurt while talking. He wanted to kick the crap out of them. Pushing that thought from his mind, he let his attention drift away from them and back over the student groupings at the tables. He didn't really feel like sitting at Finn's table but it seemed like the best choice at the moment, despite how awkward he felt around everyone there.

He let out a frustrated breath. He had been just standing there at the end of the lunch line for a few minutes now and was starting to look stupid. Ridiculous as it was, the first day of school really played a large role as to what the rest of the school year would entail. Choosing where to sit was a bigger deal than it should have been, but even Noah Puckerman, resident school bad-ass, wasn't immune to stupid high school hierarchy.

That was when he saw Artie roll into the room, catching Puck's attention. Artie had been something of a friend to him the year before, despite Puck having tormented him before. Wheelchair bound, ridiculously smart, and a member of the Glee, Brainiacs and A/V clubs with a really sad taste in sweaters and sweater vests, Artie was definitely not someone to sit with for pecking order reasons. He had helped Puck with his math the year before, though, and Puck had learned he was actually a pretty cool guy. Perhaps Senior year would be the year Puck stopped worrying so much about his bad boy persona and hung around with people who were actually worth his time

"Yo, Professor X," greeted Puck, sauntering up to where Artie was waiting in line, an empty red tray balanced across his lap. "How was your summer?"

"Good," replied Artie, giving Puck a confused look but keeping his voice light and friendly. "Played some Call of Duty, a little Elder Scrolls, tried out some Minecraft."

Puck stared at him and blinked slowly before shrugging off his confusion. Grinning, he grabbed Artie's tray from his lap, his own balanced in his left hand, and pushed his way through the lunch line. A few people exclaimed their dismay at Puck cutting, but most remained silent seeing that it was Puck who was doing the cutting. Puck set the empty tray down on the counter and started asking for random food items from the lunch ladies. Artie remained silent and simply rolled after him in his wheelchair. Once Puck had filled Artie's tray up with random lunch items, he set it back down on Artie's lap so that he could hold onto his own tray with both hands.

"Where shall we sit?" asked Puck brightly.

Artie was staring at him open mouthed but quickly shut it with an audible clack and pointed with the tilt of his head to a mostly empty table on the far corner of the cafeteria where only a few other guys were sitting. Puck inhaled sharply as he took in the dweebiest of the dweebs but simply shrugged and walked beside Artie as they made their way to the table.

The five geeks already seated visibly cowered when Puck arrived at their table. Puck rolled his eyes when one weakly said that he had already spent all his lunch money. Stealing kids' lunch money was _so_ 1994 and totally not Puck's thing. Artie placed his tray onto the table and Puck dropped down in the seat next to him. He noticed a few people from other tables looking at him incredulously and shot a few glares in a few of their directions before he dug into his hamburgers.

It took five minutes of awkward silences and stunted conversations before Artie was finally able to get the other kids at the table chatting with Puck present. After a few minutes of trying to follow their conversation, Puck finally gave up and tuned them out. He eyed the blonde girl with the freckly nose and the thick glasses who was sitting across the table from him. She might actually be kind of hot if she got contacts and started dressing differently. Her baggy t-shirt was shapeless and a terrible colour but it couldn't completely hide the size of her rack. He groaned quietly to himself when he caught himself ogling her; he really needed to get laid.

Artie made a little effort in involving Puck in some of the conversation, though it was obvious he was still confused as to why Puck had even joined them. Soon, though, Puck finished his lunch and got up to leave the boys and freckle-faced girl with the big boobs to their strange conversation about something called Cylon and something to do with Boomer drinking Starbucks.

Puck dumped his garbage into a garbage can and returned his tray before leaving. As he stepped out of the cafeteria, he was practically attacked by the school education and career counselor.

"Noah," exclaimed Mr. Jenkins, clasping his shoulder. "Just the fellow I was looking for."

Frowning, Puck allowed the balding man to lead him to his office. Mr. Jenkins shut the office door once they were both inside and motioned for Puck to have a seat. Puck dropped down into on the of the uncomfortable chairs set in front of the large desk, immediately falling into his habitual persona because of his nerves.

"What's this about, Mr. Jenkins?" asked Noah, lounging cockily in the chair. "My time's precious."

"I'm sure it is," replied the older man, unfazed by Puck's attitude. "So I'll get right to the point. I was going through your credits and... it looks like you aren't going to have enough to graduate."

Puck's entire body tensed but he remained silent.

"You need at least one more course to have enough credits," said Mr. Jenkins after a short pause.

He picked up a sheet of paper on his desk and squinted at it thoughtfully.

"I've been looking over your schedule and it looks like you have a free class during French and Art," continued Mr. Jenkins. "Would either of those be something that would interest you?"

Puck hummed to himself as if thinking it over, but there was really no contest between the two. He hadn't taken French before and Senior high would probably be a ridiculous time to start, and considering his newfound love of painting, it only made sense that he take Art.

"I guess Art might not suck too much," he said with a noncommittal shrug.

"Great," replied Mr. Jenkins with a pleased smile. "I'll sign you up."

"Great," echoed Puck before letting out an annoyed sigh. "Can I go now?"

At Mr. Jenkins' nod, Puck got to his feet and left the office. He had only taken a few steps down the hall when the bell signaling the end of lunch period echoed through the halls. He made his way to his locker to grab a few things before heading to his next class.

The rest of the day passed by quickly and soon Puck found himself pulling up in front of the Miller's house. He left his backpack in his beat-up truck and walked up the front steps to ring the doorbell. Soon after, Mr. Miller answered the door with a bright smile and twinkling eyes. The smell of sweet cinnamon filled Puck's nostrils when the door opened causing Puck's stomach to gurgle in anticipating. Mr. Miller ushered Puck inside, closing the door behind them. Mrs. Miller was drinking tea in the kitchen and smiled brightly when Mr. Miller brought Puck into the room.

"How was your first day back at school, Dear?" she asked.

"It was okay," replied Puck, vaguely.

There were freshly baked cinnamon buns sitting on a wire rack next to the stove and Puck was quick to swipe one. He juggled it between his hands because it was still hot to the touch and Mrs. Miller gave him an unimpressed look. He grinned sheepishly before taking a small plate from the cupboard to set the cinnamon bun on.

"I'm taking Art," he offered before sitting down on a chair to the right of the elderly lady.

She smiled brightly at him before taking a sip of her tea. Puck smiled back before taking a bite of the cinnamon bun. He exhaled a happy groan at the taste and swallowed so he could take an even larger bite.

"Do you want something to drink, Noah?" asked Mr. Miller. "Tea? Milk? Water? We might have some juice..."

"Water, please," cut in Puck with a grateful smile.

Mr. Miller nodded and filled a glass with water before placing it on the table in front of Puck. Thanking him, Puck took a long drink before going back to his cinnamon bun. Once he had finished his bun and Mrs. Miller finished her tea, they both cleaned up their dishes and headed to the conservatory to work on their paintings. Puck loved this still rather new routine and was happy that it was still in place even now that the school year had started up again.


	3. Art and Threesomes

**Title**: Figure Study #23  
**Pairings**: Puck/Kurt  
**Rating**: R  
**Spoilers**: This is mostly AU...

**Summary**: The summer before his senior year, Puck meets Mrs. Miller, an elderly lady. At her influence, he takes up a new hobby which inadvertently leads to a lot of lifestyle changes and personal growth for Puck. One of these said changes is his view of Kurt Hummel. _Klainers can rest easy because there is no Klaine and so, no Blaine-bashing in this AU... as if I would bash my sweet Baby Blaine. _

* * *

**Figure Study #23**

**ART & THREESOMES  
**

* * *

"Just because someone is remotely nice to you," shrilled Santana in an angry voice making Puck nearly drop his binder in surprise. "Doesn't mean it is an invitation for you to wrap your Richard Simmons thighs around them and latch on for dear life."

Puck furrowed his brow as she spoke, wondering what she was even talking about. He didn't have a chance to form any guesses, though, because suddenly Kurt was angrily striding across the hall to press into Santana's personal space.

"Are you so threatened by the resident _gay kid_, that you can't handle a little friendly competition?" asked Kurt, angrily, his face only mere inches from Santana's.

"Now you listen to me, dick breath," glowered Santana, her eyes narrowing and her face turning into an angry stone wall that gave Puck shivers. "This isn't a competition, if it was, you wouldn't stand a chance in hell. All you are is a freaky side show."

"You're _nothing_," she said as she jabbed Kurt in the chest with her pointer finger. "So why don't you take your pretty pink lady lips and your prancy little pear hips and get out of my face before I am forced to end you."

Puck winced at Santana's words but watched from his locker as Kurt angrily regarded her. He set his jaw, his mouth pulled into a taut line though Puck thought he saw the guy's lower lip quiver just a little, and then Kurt turned on his heel and stormed away. Santana visibly deflated once Kurt was out of her presence as if she were exhausted from the encounter.

"'Tana?" asked Puck, softly, using the nickname he hadn't used in well over a year.

She turned to look at him and he caught a glimpse of vulnerability before she was able to cover it with a cold neutral expression. She stepped out of the centre of the hallway and sidled up to Puck at his locker.

"So, have you come to a decision about my proposed arrangement?" she asked in a sudden sultry voice.

Puck looked toward the ceiling in frustration.

"I said 'no' right when you first brought it up," grumbled Puck as Santana's longer fingers wrapped around his bicep.

"Maybe I feel like giving you a second chance to change your mind," she purred as she ran her fingers up his arm.

Puck could feel goosebumps rising on his skin despite knowing she wasn't the least bit interested in him.

"What's going on with you and Hummel?" asked Puck as he forced himself not to react to her.

"Oh," she said before rolling her eyes and shrugging. "Nothing. He just seems to think that he's a real cheerleader just because Sue wants to use his voice for another attempt at winning Nationals."

The bell signaling the start of the school day rang out overhead and Santana walked away, leaving Puck to head to his own class. He looked at his class schedule that he had studiously taped to the inside of his locker to double check what class he had that day and audibly groaned. He did _not_ want to attend Geometry with Mrs. Bletheim. He decided to put off the inevitable hell that was a full-length class with the nasty Geometry teacher and headed to the boys bathroom to hide while the halls emptied of students.

He stopped in his tracks when he stepped around the corner of the bathroom entry, the swinging door falling shut behind him. Kurt was leaning over one of the sings, staring into the mirror. His eyes were red-rimmed and the corners of his mouth were turned down in an angry frown. He looked up when he sensed Puck's presence and his cheeks immediately coloured in embarrassment. He quickly turned away from Puck and splashed water on his face before grabbing so paper towel from the dispenser to pat his cheeks and forehead dry. Puck remained still, watching him, as Kurt threw the brown paper towel out and moved to walk past him.

"Wait," said Puck just before Kurt was about to disappear back into the hall.

"What do you want?" asked Kurt, his voice rough and a bit lower than Puck remembered.

Puck struggled for a half second trying to think of what to say.

"Are you okay?" he asked lamely.

Kurt gave him an incredulous but still sassy look that said 'do I fucking look okay, you moron?' but just shrugged and said, "I'm fine."

Puck grabbed at Kurt's arm to stop him from continuing forward. The leaner boy turned around and gave Puck a confused look before ripping his arm away from him.

"You're not okay," commented Puck, softly. "Is this because of Santana?"

For a split second surprise crossed Kurt's face but he schooled it into a stony frown.

"Why do you care?" he asked.

Puck dropped his hand. Why _did_ he care?

"She can be a bitch when she feels weak or whatever," Puck said, not answering Kurt's question.

"I know," sighed Kurt, his shoulders lowering.

He took a shaky breath and crossed his arms across his torso in a way that made it look almost like he was hugging himself. The act caused Puck to suddenly want to hug Kurt which shocked him and set him reeling for a few moments. During the time it took Puck to push past the strange feeling in his belly, Kurt managed to regain his own composure and reattach his well-worn mask of confidence. It was growing threadbare with use.

"She's just scared that I'll outdo her at her own game," said Kurt, raising his chin indignantly. "I get it; we all have things that we want to keep specifically ours. I just wish she hadn't brought up my past like that. Everyone makes mistakes."

Puck grimaced at the way Kurt's voice turned from haughty to soft and broken while he spoke. He didn't need Kurt to say it to know he was thinking about his past crushes on Finn and Sam. He swallowed nervously, feeling uncomfortable with the level of emotion on display but not feeling like he could just leave, either.

Kurt needed a friend and, up until then, Santana seemed to have filled that role. He wasn't sure what had happened the year before to bring them together, he knew it had something to do with David Karofsky, but none of it really made sense and Puck wasn't one to spend extra effort getting involved in other people's business. But with Santana's allegiance to him obviously on the rocks, Kurt really needed another friend. Puck definitely wasn't the guy for the job, but he wondered who else could be. As lonely as he felt some days, it had to be ten times worse being Kurt.

He had Finn as a step-brother but Puck wasn't sure how well everything was in that relationship given their beginnings and Finn's fear of the football team. Rachel and Kurt seemed to have started spending more and more time together the year before but Santana's hate for Rachel kept that friendship from progressing. Mercedes' and Kurt's friendship hadn't made it through the whole Sam debacle. Tina and Mike seemed like they might be Kurt's allies, but it was hard to tell because they sort of kept to themselves for the most part. Kurt really didn't seem to have anyone dependable.

"Don't I know it," Puck replied, though it sounded a little ridiculous given the length of time it had taken him to respond.

Despite his dejected stance, Kurt lifted an eyebrow. Puck shrugged.

"What do you have right now?" asked Puck.

"Geometry with Mrs. Bletheim," replied Kurt with a shudder.

"Ugh, me too," replied Puck, shaking his head and shoulders like it made him physically flinch to think about woman.

The corners of Kurt's mouth turned up a little at their shared distaste.

"Wanna skip?" asked Puck.

"It probably wouldn't end up doing us any favors to skip the first class of the year," said Kurt with a sigh.

"Yeah, you're probably right," replied Puck with a crooked grimace before he shoved his hands in his jean pockets and tilted his head toward the bathroom door. "Shall we?"

"After you," said Kurt with a strange little curtsy.

Puck smirked and moved to leave the bathroom, subtly checking over his shoulder that Kurt was indeed following. The halls were empty and they quickly made their way down to Mrs. Bletheim's classroom before they were caught in the hall without a pass.

The elderly lady was already furiously writing out equations on the chalk board at the front of the room, the pair of glasses sitting on her head bouncing precariously with her sharp movements. Puck pushed open the classroom door and she quickly turned to give him an angry stare.

"Noah Puckerman," she boomed in a voice much bigger than her small statue. "Starting the school year off right, I see."

Her face morphed into one of thinly veiled surprise when she noticed Kurt following Puck into the room.

"Kurt Hummel," she said, turning her attention completely away from Puck. "And why are you late?"

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Bletheim," said Kurt as he strode into the room. "It won't happen again."

"See that it doesn't," she said darkly before turning back to the chalk board.

Only a few of the seats at the front of the room were still vacant, so Kurt and Puck ended up sitting next to each other. Studiously, Kurt was quick to pull out his notebook to try to catch up to whatever it was that Mrs. Bletheim was writing on the board. Puck, on the other hand, simply lounged in his desk and zoned out. He thought about the painting he had been working on at Mrs. Miller's house for the last three days, imagining what he might add to it next. He had been so proud when the elderly woman had given it a long contemplative look the evening before and then said she thought it looked like music. He wondered if he could get away with going there after school again that day instead of straight home. He wanted to try adding some yellow it.

It wasn't long before Geometry was over and Puck found himself walking with Kurt to the choir room for their first Glee gathering of the year. Though they didn't say anything to each other, Puck found it actually quite pleasant to have someone to walk with. Most of the members were already there when Puck and Kurt arrived. Santana who was sitting with Brittany gave Puck the evil-eye when she saw him walk in with Kurt, but made sure not to make any sort of eye-contact with her supposed friend.

Brittany smiled brightly at Kurt and gestured to the empty chair beside her but Kurt smiled glumly and shook his head, instead taking the empty seat next to Rachel. She smiled tightly at Kurt before turning back to Finn who was sitting on her other side. Puck climbed up the staggered steps to sit down in a vacant chair near the top. There sure were a lot of vacant seats. He found himself wishing that Sam was still around, he seemed like the kind of guy he might have ended up being friends with. He leaned back in his chair and pretended to doze while he half-listened to the different conversations going on around him.

A few minutes after the tardy bell had rung, Mr. Schuester finally walked into the choir room. Puck smirked when he noticed Brad roll his eyes at Schester's tardiness. The cacophony of student voices slowly ebbed into an attentive silence when Mr. Schuester began to address the class. After welcoming them back to a new year, he quickly started his usual talk about finding new members and making it to nationals. Puck let out a long-suffering sigh and began to tune the man out.

They really did need new recruits, though. He looked around the room and counted that there were only ten of them; Tina, Mike, Artie, Brittany, Santana, Mercedes, Finn, Rachel, Kurt and himself. They needed at least on more kid. His brow furrowed when he suddenly wondered where Quinn was. He wanted to ask but couldn't be bothered to speak up in class so remained silent; he'd look for her later.

Soon, the class drew to a close with Mr. Shuester reminding everyone of their first assignment which was singing a duet as a way to reacquaint themselves with each other. Puck wondered who he might end up singing with as he left the room. It was quickly pushed from his mind when he reached his locker to get out his stuff for next period. He had his first Art class next and he found himself actually feeling excited about it.

Puck had to walk down to the end of a hallway at McKinley he had never walked before to reach the Art room. It was a lot quieter at that end of the school and he couldn't help but feel a little uncomfortable because of it. He quickened his pace, checking the room numbers beside the doors to make sure he was headed the right way. When he entered his classroom, he was surprised to find it different from the other classrooms in the school. There were a few chairs stacked at the side of the room, but no desks anywhere. A few students he didn't recognize were sitting in a semi-circle on the floor waiting for the teacher to arrive.

Hesitantly, Puck entered the room and sidled up to the group of kids. Even with his badass rep, Puck felt a little intimidated by the strange group. There were a couple of kids who looked like hippies, a few emo/goth kids, one or two kids dressed regularly, and one scary-ass kid that he was having a hard time putting a gender to. He stopped a few feet from the group and shifted nervously from foot to foot as he stood awkwardly.

"You're Puck, right?" spoke up the scary kid in a voice that didn't help Puck place them as a he or a she.

"Uh, yeah," replied Puck.

He kid nodded their head a few times, not taking their eyes off him.

"I don't know your name," said Puck.

"Taylor," said the kid.

Puck grimaced. The name did not help with gender identification, either.

"I like your 'hawk," said the hot emo chick sitting beside Taylor.

"Uh, thanks," said Puck. "I like your white hair."

She grinned, the gem on her lip ring sparkling as the movement of her lips caused it to catch the light coming in from the window, before leaning over and whispering in Taylor's ear. Taylor grinned mischievously and nodded.

"You like threesomes, Puck?" asked the emo chick.

Puck's eyebrows shot up and a slow grin crossed his face. Before he could respond, though, their art teacher walked into the class room carrying a large black portfolio case. He was tall and lean and dressed in a frumpy suit. He introduced himself to the class as Mr. Tabay even though it looked to Puck like he was the only kid in the room that hadn't taken Art with Mr. Tabay before. He took a seat on the floor just a little bit away from the rest of the group of students and turned his attention onto the teacher.

"We're going to try to cover a bunch of different stuff this year, but we'll mostly be working on your portfolios," said Mr. Tabay as he turned to start jotting down notes on the chalk board on the wall in the front of the room. "First, we'll start simply with drawing, then we'll get into some painting, and then some ceramics and sculpture. After that, we'll do some art history and you guys will choose a major artist to research and write reports on. We'll spend the second half of the semester working on your portfolios as I know many of you are planning on applying to art colleges this year."

Puck noticed the other kids copying down the class outline that Mr. Tabay was writing on the board as he spoke, so he opened his notebook and got started doing the same.

"Throughout the semester we'll also be learning different art-related terms each week. Every Friday we'll start the class with a short quiz to ensure you're learning the definitions," continued Mr. Tabay. "We'll also have an opportunity to work with the drama students on the set for the school's annual theatre production. No word yet on what the play will be this year. The students who take Art with me next semester will be working on the decorations for prom, so you guys can count yourselves lucky to get the more interesting job."

When he finished writing the overview on the board, Mr. Tabay turned back around to face his motley crew of art students with a bright smile. He opened his large portfolio case and pulled out a stack of papers and walked up to the group of students to pass out a sheet to each of them.

"Here's a list of the supplies you'll need to purchase and the dates you'll need to have them by so that you can participate in our class," he said as he passed out the papers.

Puck paled as he looked over the sheet Mr. Tabay passed to him. It was a long list.

"This gonna cost a lot of money?" he asked.

Mr. Tabay stopped what he was doing and looked at him with an expression of pure distaste. Puck frowned unhappily at him before glancing over at Taylor who nodded confirmation at him. Puck let out a frustrated sigh. He hadn't made as much money that summer as he had anticipated because of his lack of tips from 'satisfied' customers.

Mr. Tabay passed out another hand-out which had his set of Art room rules as well as Artist Safety Guidelines on it. He droned on about the safety in the classroom and what he expected from them while they were in his class. Puck mostly tuned him out. He looked back over at Taylor to check the kid out and found himself hoping Taylor was a chick. If she was, she had practically no boobs and was really lacking in the curves department. Her skinny little beanstalk frame was practically swimming in her layers of goth and grunge inspired clothing. He face looked even paler than it probably was with her hair dyed flat black and her eyes outlined in thick black eyeliner. The white-haired emo/goth chick sitting next to Taylor kept moving closer to her and was practically sitting in her lap by the time Mr. Tabay had finished his spiel.

"Since you all need to purchase your supplies for this class, we won't start anything today," said Mr. Tabay. "You can just use the rest of this period to converse _quietly_ amongst yourselves or work on any assignments you might have received in other classes already. Don't leave until the class is over, though."

To Puck's surprise, once he was finished speaking, the teacher simply picked up his portfolio case and left the classroom. Puck turned an incredulous look onto the kids still sitting in a semi circle on the floor. The white-haired chick let out a small laugh at Puck's expression.

"He's like that," she said. "I'm Raine, by the way. I think you fucked my mom."

Puck's mouth fell open and he felt the colour leave his face. Raine shrugged in response to his reaction.

"She has a big pool," she said. "Sometimes she lets me have pool parties at her house. I live with Taylor."

Puck looked over at Taylor who was eyeing him with a measuring look.

"So, you didn't answer my question before," said Raine after a few moments of silence.

"Uh," stammered Puck feeling unnerved by Taylor's cool stare.

"I asked if you liked threesomes," she said.

Puck looked away from Taylor to regard Raine who was looking at him with a smirk on her bright red lips.

"With you two?" asked Puck.

"Yeah," spoke Taylor in her husky voice. "Would that be a problem?"

"No, it'd probably be pretty hot," answered Puck, feeling his palms begin to sweat. "But... I uh..."

"Oh, it most definitely is," purred Taylor.

"Maybe we'll hit you up for one sometime," said Raine.

The two then stood up and linked hands before walking out of the classroom. Puck watched as Taylor's black skirt/kilt thing swished around her thighs. She had really hot legs for a such a skinny chick.

"See you later," said Raine. "We need a smoke."

"Why have I not met those two before," Puck asked himself as he shook himself out of the strange yet hot and bothered feeling being in their midst gave him.

"They mostly keep to themselves," offered a hippy girl sitting not far from him.

Puck nodded at her. He spent the rest of the class doodling idly in his notebook. When the bell rang for lunch, Puck was quick to leave. He wasn't sure how he felt about having to spend 50 minutes of every other school day in that classroom with the strangest kids Lima, Ohio had to offer, but Taylor and Raine intrigued him.

Artie was sitting with the majority of the glee kids when Puck made his way into the cafeteria, so he felt resigned to do the same. He glanced around the room to see if Raine and Taylor might be seated somewhere but didn't catch sight of any of the kids that were in Art class with him. It made sense, though, seeing as he'd never seen any of them before.

"Hey," greeted Artie when Puck sat down next to him at the table. "How's it going."

"Pretty awesome," answered Puck. "I just got invited to have a threesome with some hot goth girls. I bet they do some freaky shit in the bedroom."

Artie gave him an incredulous look before fist bumping him. Puck smirked. His smirk fell off his face, though, when Santana sunk gracefully down into the empty seat next to him.

"What do _you _want?" asked Puck.

"Nothing," bit back Santana. "Can't I sit with _my_ Glee Club?"

"Of course you can, Santana," said Artie with a smile. "But why aren't you sitting with the Cheerios like you usually do?"

Santana bit her lip and glanced over at the table across the room that housed the majority of the Cheerios clique. She looked upset but she forced a sickly sweet smile.

"I just thought I should bond with the members of my other clique," she said before quickly looking down at her salad and grabbing the packet of salad dressing to rip open.

Puck looked over at the Cheerios table and saw Brittany sitting on Kurt's lap while the other girls all laughed and acting flirty with him. He raised an eyebrow in surprise before turning his attention back to Santana.

"Did you still want that beard?" he asked in a low voice.

Santana lifted her head and gave him a sharp look.

"Why?" she asked defensively. "You change your mind?"

"No," replied Puck, taken aback by how defeated Santana looked. "But I met these two chicks in Art class."

"You're taking Art?" she cut in, her face covered in a look of disbelief.

"I needed more credits," replied Puck with a shrug. "It seemed easier than French."

Santana narrowed his eyes at him but moved her hand in a gesture that said 'go on'.

"So, anyway, I met these two hot goth chicks in Art class who are totally together, so I thought... why even have a beard? If there's other lezbo couples at our school, then it shouldn't be so bad to come out."

"Who?" asked Tina from across the table. "I know like all the art students and I don't know of any lesbian couples."

Santana glared at Puck causing Puck to grimace, he realized he hadn't been talking as quietly as he had initially thought. Tina either hadn't realized why he was talking to Santana about lesbians, or already knew about Santana, because she didn't seemed to react to the whole 'come out' part of what he had said.

"Raine and Taylor," said Puck. "You know them? They asked me to have a threesome with them."

Tina burst out into a fit of laughter at that. Puck frowned at her.

"What?" he snapped.

"Taylor is _not_ a girl," she managed to say as she gasped for breath.

Puck's eyes widened. So he had made the wrong guess on Taylor's gender... interesting.

"But he was wearing a skirt," stammered Puck, baffled.

"Kurt wears skirts," offered Santana, clearly amused by the change in events.

"But Taylor was totally making out with Raine after class," said Puck, remembering leaving the Art when the bell rang just in time to see the two goth chicks quickly breaking apart from what looked like a hot make-out session in the corner next to the doors.

"And that makes him a chick because..." asked Tina, still giggling.

"Well, cuz only gay dudes would wear skirts and Raine is most _definitely_ a chick," explained Puck, his brow furrowing in confusion.

"You are hopeless," exclaimed Santana with a loud laugh that caught the attention of the rest of the people at their table.

"Scottish guys wear kilts," offered Artie, suddenly bringing himself into the conversation.

"Sexuality is a fluid thing, Puck," said Tina. "And you don't have to be gay or straight or whatever to wear a certain item of clothing."

Puck nodded contemplatively as he took in what she said.

"Oh G*d," he said, suddenly, his face clouding with anxiety. "What am I gonna do when they ask me over for that threesome?"

Santana cackled. At least he managed to cheer her up.

* * *

**a/n: Thank you for being patient. I promise the Puckurt/Purt will come.**


	4. Realizations and Insecurities

**Title**: Figure Study #23  
**Pairings**: Puck/Kurt  
**Rating**: R  
**Spoilers**: This is mostly AU...

**Warning:** Bullying, homophobic taunting

**Summary**: The summer before his senior year, Puck meets Mrs. Miller, an interesting elderly lady. At her influence, he takes up a new hobby which inadvertently leads to a lot of lifestyle changes and personal growth for Puck. One of these said changes is his view of Kurt Hummel.

* * *

**Figure Study #23**

REALIZATIONS AND INSECURITIES

* * *

Puck stepped into the art store. He had gotten the name and address from Mrs. Miller after showing her his list of supplies needed for his Art class. He had held his tongue about his worry over the cost, knowing that he had been using her supplies all summer for free. Still, he was frustrated. It probably would have been a smarter move to have taken a different class. He probably could have moved his schedule around and found a class other than French or Art to take in addition to his current course load. Puck glanced around the claustrophobic little store that was filled to the brim with shelves of supplies he had never even heard of.

"Can I help you?" came a voice from his left and Puck turned to see a lady behind a cashier counter looking at him with a small smile.

"Uh," stammered Puck, feeling insecure. "Just looking, thanks."

At her nod, he scuttled down the nearest aisle to get out of her vision. He glanced up and down the shelves of pencils and other drawing instruments, of strange tools of different shapes, of erasers and bottles of fluids, and all sorts of other items he did not recognize in the least. He looked down at his sheet of paper at the items listed there. Many of the names were so unfamiliar to him that they didn't even conjure up a guess as to what the physical form could possibly be.

"Need some help?" asked a voice that while, being octaves higher than Puck's, held an earthy rasp.

Puck turned to see Taylor standing a few steps away from him with his arms crossed loosely over his chest. He was startled at first to see the other boy, especially now that he knew he was, in fact, a boy, but then a wave of relief rushed through him.

"Dude," breathed out Puck. "Am I glad to see _you_!"

Taylor smirked at him and held a hand toward him. Puck stared dumbly at his hand, fingernails painted a metallic silver-black, before understanding that Taylor wanted his supplies list.

"Oh," stammered Puck with an embarrassed smile.

He quickly placed the list in Taylor's hand. Taylor looked the list over and then raised an eyebrow at Puck as he glanced at him from over the top of the paper.

"You don't have _anything_?" he asked.

Puck shrugged. Taylor's eyebrows rose but he remained silent. He turned and beckoned Puck to follow with the simple tilt of his chin. Puck followed after him. Taylor walked to the front of the store and motioned to the stack of shopping baskets on the floor next to the door.

"You're gonna need one of those," he said and Puck was quick to comply.

With Taylor's attention elsewhere, Puck was finally able to really take in his appearance. With the knowledge that he was looking at a_ dude_, Puck's perception of the guy was completely different as he took him in than it was the day before in his first Art class. His hair was straight, unnaturally straight, and dyed black with cherry-red streaks. It went down just past his chin making his jaw-line and the nudity of his neck more pronounced. Puck didn't remember him having red streaks in his hair the day before, perhaps they were new. His lips were a matching red, the day before they had been black. He was short and thin, but his toned arms were well-muscled. They definitely would have given him away if he had been wearing the black tank top yesterday when Puck had first met him.

His wrists were covered in black leather bracelets, many of his fingers wore silver rings, and his full bottom lip was pierced twice. His pale eyes were outlined with dark eyeliner and his ears were covered in piercings. His tank top was more of a sleeveless tunic, if Puck was using the term 'tunic' properly. It was black with a silver and white moth motif on one side. The bottom flared out and ended asymmetrically, coming down just low enough to properly cover his crotch which Puck was very happy for because there was no way the outline of his junk wouldn't be absolutely obvious in his skinny jeans. The black skinny jeans were so tight that they looked literally painted on. They were even tighter than the pants Kurt sometimes wore. They were all black, but were striped with shiny black against matte black. He was wearing heavy, clunky boots with lots of buckles.

Taylor definitely looked more like a guy that day. Had he been wearing his current outfit when Puck had first met him, he probably would have had less trouble deciding on a gender. Still, Taylor looked ambiguous and Puck couldn't help but think it was kind of hot. Obviously, he really needed to get laid.

Taylor was systematically going through Puck's list and putting different things in his shopping basket for him. Puck thought it seemed a little out of character for Taylor to be helping him like this, even if he didn't really know Taylor or his character. He wasn't going to question it, though, he really needed the help. Every once in a while Taylor would make a comment like, 'you definitely need to buy the best quality version of this even if it costs a lot more' or 'this is something that you can be cheap on' or 'this is just stupid, you don't actually need this, you can make do without it'. Once Taylor had everything checked off the list, he led Puck up to the till. The woman gave Puck a funny look but began ringing the items through the till.

"Just looking, hey?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

Puck shrugged, his cheeks pinking just a little when he noticed the way she was looking between him and Taylor. Did she think they were _together_?

"It's okay," she said with a small laugh. "Taylor has that affect on a lot of our customers."

Puck furrowed his brow.

"Wait... what?" he asked.

"He's a flirt," she said with a small smile as she continued to ring Puck's items through. "It works well for business."

"You think I'm buying _all_ this junk just because..." Puck eyes were wide and his mouth half gaping as he asked but then stopped himself partway through. "Wait, Taylor _works_ here?"

He turned to look at Taylor who had left him to walk back down the aisles. He was straightening stacks of paper and rows of pens. _Oh._

"Well, he wasn't flirting or whatever with me," said Puck, turning back to the lady. "We're in art class together and he was helping me with the supply list."

Puck raised the paper to show it to the lady behind the till. He realized there was no way out of looking like a moron, though, seeing as he _had_ told her he was just looking when he had first come in. At least this way he didn't look like a _gay_ moron.

"Besides, I like chicks," said Puck with a frown because he did, he did like chicks –not dudes with tight jeans and black eyeliner.

"Hasn't stopped him before," said the lady with a laugh. "That'll be two hundred and thirty dollars and forty nine cents."

"Are you _effing_ kidding me?" stammered Puck as he pulled out his wallet. "This is highway robbery."

After paying for his items, he picked up his two brown paper bags filled with supplies and turned to leave. He looked around the store to try to locate Taylor to thank him but somehow the boy had just randomly disappeared. Puck did a tiny shrug and left. He walked around the side of the building to where he had parked his little beat-up pickup truck in the back alley so as to not be seen parked at the _Art Store_ by any of the nerds from high school. As he walked past the back door of the store, he saw Taylor leaned against the wall lighting a cigarette.

"Hey," he said, changing direction.

"Hey," replied Taylor cooly.

"Thanks for helping me with all this," he said, lifting the bags a little.

"No problem," was Taylor's answer, he smirked a little before continuing. "It's kind of my job."

"Yeah," agreed Puck, feeling awkward.

They stood in silence for a few moments; Taylor leaning against the brick wall, sucking on his cigarette, and Puck rocking his weight between his feet, feeling ridiculously awkward.

"Well," Puck said after a few moments. "I'll see you around."

"Definitely," replied Taylor after blowing out a mouthful of smoke.

Puck stiffly walked away from the short guy, feeling awkward in his own skin. Taylor's cool confidence had Puck reeling. For someone who was on the football team and thought highly of as a badass and womanizer by the rest of the jocks, Puck was starting to really realize just how self-conscious a person he was. He got into his truck and set his bags on the passenger seat before turning it on. He glanced out the windshield as Taylor before throwing the vehicle in reverse and backing out of his alley parking spot.

The next day saw Puck sitting with Artie and his group of geeky friends in the far section of the cafeteria. His morning classes had been uneventful, even his second day of Art class hadn't been particularly interesting despite the group of kids he shared the class with. The nerdy boys were chatting about a project they were doing in their A/V Club while Puck stuffed his face with pizza and glanced around the cafeteria. Finn and Rachel were sitting alone together, Santana and Kurt were both sitting with the Cheerios, Mercedes with sitting with Shane looking bored, and Tina and Mike were sitting with a group of other Asian kids talking and laughing happily. It was Friday, the first week of school nearly finished, and Puck still hadn't seen any sign of Quinn.

It was funny to him, that out of all the kids in Glee Club, it seemed like it was mostly the more 'popular' or kids higher up the school pecking order that were lonely and without friends. Finn was supposed to be McKinley's golden boy. He was the quarterback of their football team and supposedly friends with all the popular jocks. Seeing him sitting with Rachel at an otherwise empty table, though, it was obvious that Finn wasn't so 'high-up' after all. Even before joining Glee years before, Finn hadn't been anything but a prisoner of the high school hierarchy system with no real friends or allies.

Santana was supposedly the queen bitch of the Cheerios ever since Quinn's fall from the top, but she looked absolutely miserable where she sat between Brittany and some other ditzy blonde. She was the cheer captain and had a lot of power in the school. She was wanted by all the guys and all the girls wanted to be her. But Puck knew Santana was miserable. What was the point of all that popular power when she couldn't even be with the person she loved? And who was Santana's ally? Who would stand up for her if she needed it? Brittany, definitely, but was there anyone else?

Mercedes, well, she was an interesting story. She wasn't quite top of the food chain by any means, but through her time on the Cheerios and her strange affiliation with Quinn and Santana, she had risen from just being the fat, black, gay kid's hag that she was at the beginning of sophomore year. Her time dating Sam, who was the school's quarterback at the time, only helped boost her status. Yet, with all that, she looked absolutely bored where she sat next to her current football player boyfriend at his table. Did she have any _real_ friends? Anyone to call on the weekends or have girly slumber parties with?

Artie, on the other hand, who was bullied and mocked, who had countless slushies thrown in his face, who was considered a social leper by the _popular_ kids, was surrounded by friends as he ate his lunch. The same went for Mike and Tina; they had plenty of friends outside of glee club. Of course, Mike was also fairly popular being on the football team, himself.

Puck wondered what the point was. So many of the popular kids put so much effort into how they were perceived by the rest of the school. They were strategic with their clothes, who they hung around with, the classes they took, the clubs and sports they were involved in, sometimes even with the grades they got. No one wanted to be seen as stupid, but they didn't want to be 'too smart' either. He had heard a few of the girls in his Math class the year before talking about how it wasn't 'lady-like' to be good at Math and planned on purposely getting lesser marks on their exams because of it. It was ridiculous.

Even Puck, who liked to act like stuff didn't matter to him, was strategic with some of his decisions for similar reasons. He had a bad-ass, fuck-the-world, I-don't-care-what-anyone-thinks persona to maintain, after all. How ironic. Puck frowned and angrily bit into his pizza. He didn't realize he had been growling until Artie touched his elbow and asked him what was wrong.

"Oh, sorry dude," he said, smiling a little while he searched his mind for an explanation. "I was just, uh, wondering who I should be duetting with on Monday. I kind of left it to last minute."

"I hear ya there," said Artie with a wave of his hand. "I should have found a partner right away, but I was nervous to ask anyone because things have felt strained in glee this year."

"You got that feeling, too, huh?" asked Puck with a frown.

Artie nodded before taking another forkful of his pasta.

"I think Santana and Mercedes paired up pretty quick for the assignment," said Artie after swallowing his mouthful. "Tina and Kurt are doing something together, and Mike and Brittany are gonna see if they can get away with doing a dance number instead of singing. No doubt Finn and Rachel will be singing together, so, I think it's just us two unaccounted for."

"Cool," said Puck with a small smile. "We did awesome last year when we sang 'One Love', we made a killing."

Artie laughed and nodded.

Puck smiled to himself, remembering playing his guitar in the school courtyard while he and Artie sang for money. Artie had been a breath of fresh air after his short stint at Juvie. Puck frowned, then, he had been such an asshole. He had been one of the prime bullies at McKinley before he joined Glee. He had tormented Artie and Kurt and other kids like them. So much so that when he had approached Artie wanting to use him for his public service, Artie had been terrified. Most of the geeks and nerds Puck and the other jocks picked on didn't deserve any of it. Puck hated himself.

"You wanna get together this weekend to work on a song?" asked Artie, breaking Puck from his self-hating thoughts.

"Yeah, that'd be awesome," replied Puck, forcing a pleasant look onto his face.

He finished his meal quietly, zoning in and out while the geeks around him continued to chat. When the bell rang, Puck took Artie's tray with his own to dump the garbage and put them away. He made sure not to look at Artie, not wanting to see the look of surprise that was most assuredly on his face at the gesture. He hated how surprised people looked when he did something nice or acted even remotely decent. He hated that no one expected anything from lewd comments and malice form him, even after two years in Glee club. He hated that it was his fault.

He was just walking out of the cafeteria when a meaty hand roughly clamped down on his shoulder. Puck jumped a little and spun sideways to glare angrily at whoever dared touch him.

"Azimo," growled Puck. "What the hell?"

"We were just wondering," said Strando, coming up on Puck's other side. "Why you've been sitting with the geeks all week."

"Going soft on us, Puck?" asked Aizmio with a tilt of his head. "That faggy Glee club of yours has been messing with you for too long."

"Fuck off, you guys," growled Puck, shaking his shoulder to free him of Azimio's hand. "And I don't remember saying you could touch me, _Adams_."

"What's going on?" asked another voice and Puck turned his head to see Anthony walking up to them with a concerned and curious expression on his face.

"Nothing," replied Azimio with a shrug. "Just asking Puck, here, why he prefers the company of _nerds_ to his fellow teammates."

"I don't see how it is any of your business who he befriends," said Anthony carefully.

"Especially since you aren't one of them," said Puck jerkily pushing Strando and Azimio away.

"He's probably messing with," said another guy walking up to the growing group. "I gotta hand it to you, Puckzilla, sitting with the nerdiest kids of McKinley at lunch just to freak them out has to be one of your better ideas."

The guy had a grin on his face like he was amused by the idea and proud of himself for figuring it out. Puck wanted to punch him. He wasn't sure which was worse, being reprimanded for trying to make friends with kids lower on the school pecking order than him, or having people assume he was doing it as a new bullying tactic.

It didn't matter that he had stood up to the morons on his football team when they were too big of wusses to want to perform their own half-time show, or that he and the other glee jocks (other than Finn) had stood up for Kurt the year before, or had stopped tossing kids in the dumpsters, or pursed a girl who was most definitely not a cheerleader, or sang and performed in the school's glee club, he was still seen by the majority of the student population and school faculty as a jerk and a bully. All any of those things had done was make things strained for him in the locker room before and after games. He couldn't win.

The bell rang and the growing group of jocks surrounding him quickly dispersed without incident and Puck was happy with that for the time being. At least it was Friday and he had the weekend to look forward to. He had a few pools to clean, a painting date with Mrs. Miller, and was to make plans to get together with Artie for their glee assignment. It should be a pretty good weekend.


	5. Kurt Hummel

**Title**: Figure Study #23  
**Pairings**: Puck/Kurt  
**Rating**: R  
**Spoilers**: This is mostly AU...

**Warning:** Rude language. Puck's internal dialogue. Raw and unBETAed

**Summary**: The summer before his senior year, Puck meets Mrs. Miller, an elderly lady. At her influence, he takes up a new hobby which inadvertently leads to a lot of lifestyle changes and personal growth for Puck. One of these said changes is his view of Kurt Hummel. -Klainers can rest easy because there is no Blaine-bashing in this story. There was never Klaine in this verse._  
_

* * *

**Figure Study #23**

**KURT HUMMEL  
**

* * *

Puck glared down at the piece of paper on his desk. It was an evaluation form that Mr. Tabay would use to grade each of his assignments that year. This was his first critique and he wasn't thrilled.

"Four out of Ten," asked Puck angrily. "That isn't even passing!"

Mr. Tabay looked up from where he had been talking quietly with another student while handing out the rest of the evaluation pages. He frowned at Puck's glare but when he replied, he kept his voice neutral.

"Have a look over the checklist and read the comments," he said in response. "If you still have any questions about how I marked your assignment, you can see me after class."

Puck glowered at him before turning his attention back to the paper. Taylor and Raine sidled up to him where he was sitting, but Puck paid them no mind as he glanced over the paper.

"Unfinished and sketchy," Puck read out loud angrily.

Raine patted him on the shoulder consolingly.

"What am I supposed to do? I can't fail this class or I won't graduate," exclaimed Puck, throwing his hands up in the air. "Before this class I never drew anything... except the flying dicks on my math tests."

Raine snorted into her fist at Puck's declaration and Taylor bit his bottom lip to keep from smiling.

"You know back in the Renaissance times and, well, all the hundreds of years when painting was a big deal because we didn't have cameras and stuff, drawing wasn't really considered an art," said Taylor in his low rasp that still sounded a little like a chick who smoked too much in Puck's mind. "It was just what they would do to sketch out what they were going to paint. It wasn't anything special on its own."

"Yeah?" asked Puck.

Taylor nodded.

"Good, because I can paint," said Puck, a smile beginning to take over his face.

"Everyone has their strengths and weaknesses in Art," said Raine, encouragingly. "You'll show him when we start painting."

"But, until then," said Taylor, coolly. "We'll just have to get you surer with your pencil."

Puck nodded solemnly before his eyes widened and he furrowed his brow at Taylor.

"Wait," he said. "We? Like, as in, you guys are going to help me?"

"Well, we can't have you failing," said Raine with a bright smile turning up her candy red lips and squinting her cat-eyed blue eyes.

"You guys are awesome," said Puck with a relieved grin.

Mr. Tabay returned to the front of the room, then, and began addressing the class to tell them about their next drawing assignment. Puck groaned internally. He had only been in school for just under two weeks and he was already tired of it. He was tired of the drawing in Art class, he was tired of sitting through all his other classes, he was tired of the drama in Glee, he was tired of the jocks in the locker rooms asking him about his sexual exploits (of which he actually had nothing to tell, which he was also tired of), and he was tired of having to sit in boring class when he could be out cleaning pools and earning money while it was still warm enough out that people were using them.

After telling the students that they would be drawing some simplistic still-life's for the last half of the class, Mr. Tabay went to the storage closet in the side of the room and disappeared inside to get items out to set up. While he was jostling around in the closet, the kids moved around the room to drag out the different easels and donkey benches to get ready to draw. Puck sat down to straddle one of the benches, half hoping that Taylor or Raine would pull up a bench or easel beside him because he really hadn't talked to anyone else in the class yet and still felt fairly uncomfortable there.

Raine smiled brightly at him as she scooted up next to him on her own bench. Puck grinned at her, but mostly pretended like he didn't care that she had chosen to set up next to him. Taylor set her illustration board down on the front of her donkey bench for her and leaned down to give her a quick peck on the lips before sauntering off to set up his own stuff. She caught him watching her and gave him a quick wink before turning away to rifle through her drawing supplies that she kept in a black tool box decorated in pink and white paint.

"So, Puck," said Raine a little later, as she used green tape to secure her large sheet of paper to her board. "Do you have a girlfriend?"

Puck paused from sketching out the beginnings of his drawing to glance over at her. She was sitting with her profile to him as she meticulously taped all the edges of her paper.

"Uh, no," answered Puck.

"Oh, sorry," she replied before turning to actually look at him. "Do you have a boyfriend?"

Puck sputtered and nearly choked on nothing. He forced himself to swallow the saliva in his mouth and blinked a few times before trying to answer. Raine simply smiled at him in amusement. Despite looking nothing like her, she often managed to remind him of Tina.

"There's no one," he finally said.

"Too bad," she said. "Such a waste."

"Tell me about it," laughed Puck in frustration. "I haven't gotten laid in three weeks. I might as well have taken an oath of celibacy."

Raine shook her head and frowned in sympathy while Puck silently wondered why he had admitted that to her. Despite not getting any, he was still filling his jock buddies' ears with tall tales of his daring and dirty sexcapades every time they gathered in the locker rooms before and after gym class and football practise.

"Well," she said, turning away for a moment to put her roll of green tape away and grab up a pencil. "The threesome offer was for real, but I have a feeling you would prefer something more meaningful."

Puck blinked at her in confusion, but she was turned to face her paper and was starting to carefully draw out the lines of their geometrical still life.

"More meaningful," Puck repeated because she couldn't seriously be insinuating what he thought she was.

"Yeah," she said with a shrug. "Like, Taylor and I have a pretty open relationship, sexually. If one of us wants to fuck someone else, we talk about it and then if we both are comfortable with it, we decide if the other wants to be there to watch or participate or not. I mean, we don't just sleep around behind each other's backs, but we definitely sleep around. Communication is key."

Puck's eyes widened as Raine spoke.

"Anyway," she said, tilting her head to the side and sticking out her thumb at arm's length to get a better idea of the angles of the objects she was drawing. "I'm getting off topic. Sex is still kind of a big deal for us, like with most people in committed relationships. It isn't just about getting in, finding your release and running off; it is about connecting with your lover physically and spiritually. The threesomes and other people are just for fun, but Taylor and I are forever. I think you get that. The whole using sex to connect thing, I mean."

Puck couldn't believe what he was hearing. He wasn't sure whether to be amused or ashamed. Instead he just sat there silently and listened to Raine talk while watching her carefully draw out the picture of what was in front of her.

"So, a threesome," she concluded. "Probably wouldn't be your thing unless you were in love with both of the people. You seem like a guy who falls in love easily."

When she was finished talking, Raine simply continued to draw, seeming unworried about the depths from which she had just spoke and what Puck's reaction might be. Puck kind of admired and hated her for that. He wished he could be as comfortable as her, to not only be able to say stuff like that to people but to not be nervously waiting for their reaction after saying it.

"You are a terrible judge of character," he finally said after a long pause.

Raine simply smiled in response. Puck could see the side of her mouth raise in the smile/smirk and found it a little unnerving. It was the kind of smile that one would call a knowing smile, as if she knew exactly what she said and exactly who he was and had only said what she said so that he would hear it. It was if she had something up her sleeve. It wasn't as scary as Santana when she looked to be conniving, but it was definitely unnerving. Puck figured Raine wasn't cruel like Santana, but Raine was terrifyingly intelligent, much more than he could ever in good conscience give Santana credit for.

"Probably," said Raine with a small shrug.

* * *

Kurt wasn't in the cafeteria when Puck sat down with Artie and his nerdy friends. Puck wasn't sure why it had become part of his lunchtime routine to check out the locations of each of his glee club members while he ate his lunch. It probably had something to do with the fact that most of Artie and his friends' conversations were nearly impossible for Puck to follow. That was okay, though. He didn't mind being left out of their exchanges; it put less pressure on him. He just needed a place to sit and eat his lunch without feeling like a complete loner.

So, he would just sit quietly as he ate whatever the cafeteria was serving and get lost in his internal dialogue. The glee kids seemed more and more divided that year. He initially thought it was just a bumpy first glee meeting, but now that they were almost two weeks into the school year, it was becoming obvious that things were not right with the members of New Directions. In any case, Puck had taken inventory of the group (Finn and Rachel sitting alone together again, Tina and Mike were sitting with the Asian club, Mercedes was perched on Shane's lap, Santana and Brittany were with the Cheerios), and had come to the conclusion that Kurt was missing.

He wouldn't have thought much about it except that Kurt had been in Geometry class with him that morning. Mrs. Beltheim had screwed them all over on their first day when, at the end of the class, she had told them all that the desks they had been sitting at were where she expected them to sit for the rest of the year. Puck had groaned and wished he hadn't been late for class that day because it meant he'd be sitting at the front of the room for the rest of the year. Kurt and shared a look with him that said he felt the same way which had amused Puck a little considering he had always thought of Kurt as something of a brownnoser.

In any case, the semi-assigned seating meant he was at the front of the room next to Kurt for the class. That day Kurt had seemed anxious and distracted. And now, at lunch, he was missing. It made Puck nervous.

He quickly finished his hamburgers and fries and drained his apple juice before saying a quick 'see you later' to Artie and leaving. He would just go for a walk around the school. It wasn't like he was looking for Kurt or anything. He wasn't even really friends with Kurt. They knew each other from Glee, but it wasn't like they really cared about each other or anything. It wasn't like Puck _cared_. He just felt like walking around the school before class; work off those greasy burgers and fries he just ate. If he _happened _to see Hummel, that would be fine, but it definitely wasn't like he was _looking_ for him.

Puck was just walking down the main hall when the boy's bathroom door swung open and Kurt stepped out just ahead of him. Stride faltering; Puck felt a small wave of relief rush over him at seeing Kurt. He no longer participated in throwing Kurt into the dumpsters or knocking him against lockers or throwing slushies in his face, but he wasn't naive about it. He had known it was happening in junior year even when he was no longer the one doing it. He knew it wasn't anything that would seriously harm Kurt, but it definitely sucked. He had a personal understanding of how much it sucked after getting a small taste of it himself, before being saved by Lauren Zizes. What had caused him worry, though, was when he noticed that Karofsky kid had taken special interest in bothering Kurt the year before. He still didn't understand what had happened, but it had given him the creeps.

Karofsky was gone, now, but after such escalation in Kurt's bullying the year before, Puck couldn't help but be a little concerned at Kurt's absence in the cafeteria that day. It was heartening to see him in one piece, but Puck frowned when he realized Kurt was dressed in his own clothes instead of the cheerleader outfit. He was going to say 'regular clothes' but Kurt had never been one to dress in regular clothes, although, the outfit he was wearing was as close to regular clothes as Puck had seen him in. He was in dark jeans, a light grey button-up dress shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, and a yellow tie. No strange accessories, no layers, just the bare minimum of his regular wardrobe. What was more he had his cheerleader uniform folded up and under his arm.

"Kurt," called out Puck as Kurt made to stomp down the hallway as if he hadn't seen him. "Kurt, wait up."

Kurt stopped and turned to frown at him, but waited for Puck to jog up to him. Puck worried that Kurt was being bullied again, that even being on the cheerleading team wasn't saving him.

"Are you okay?" asked Puck in a low voice, even though the hallway was mostly empty.

"Um, yes?" replied Kurt looking confused and mildly perturbed.

Why did he always have to look _mildly perturbed_ when Puck talked to him?

"Did you get slushied?" asked Puck, glancing at Kurt's hair to see if it was wet from being washed but it was still dry and styled perfectly. "Or thrown in a dumpster?"

"No," said Kurt in confusion that was lightly masked with a raised eyebrow.

Puck stared at him for a few moments, trying to work out what was going on. Kurt furrowed his brows at him before finally letting out a sigh and turning on his heel to walk away.

"If you don't mind," he said. "I have to get this to Sue before next period."

Puck furrowed his brow and stalked after Kurt as the lanky boy walked away from him.

"You weren't slushied or dumpster tossed but you've changed your clothes," said Puck as he followed.

He stopped walking a moment later when Kurt's words sunk in.

"Wait, you're giving your uniform back?" he asked in surprise.

Puck stepped forward and grasped Kurt's elbow.

"Kurt," he exclaimed. "You're quitting Cheerios?"

"Your skills of deduction are astounding," replied Kurt in mild exasperation.

"But why?" asked Puck, realizing he was still touching Kurt and letting his arm fall to his side.

"It's not worth the trouble," replied Kurt with a shrug. "I thought it would be something more to put on my college applications, but... it..."

Kurt fumbled for a moment. He looked up at the ceiling and sighed.

"I'll just stick with Glee," he finally said with a shrug. "And maybe audition for a role in the school play or something."

"'But it' what, Kurt?" asked Puck.

It was obvious Kurt was holding something back. Puck watched as the corners of Kurt's soft mouth turned down in a frown and he looked down at the floor with his perfectly shaped eyebrows raised in mock haughtiness.

"It doesn't matter," replied Kurt, turning away from Puck to continue down the hallway.

Puck frowned and followed just a pace behind him. Kurt's gait was fast and determined. It reminded Puck of Freshman and Sophomore Kurt; the little boy who looked very similar to the little collectable dolls in his bubbie's apartment at the old-folks retirement home. He had grown so much since being the little fag who marched stiffly around the school with an 'I'm better than you' scowl on his face. And Puck had gotten to know him a little bit, had learned that the haughty exterior was mostly armor used to mask his fears and insecurities. Puck could relate to the whole masking insecurities thing.

Still, Kurt had grown. Despite being constantly bullied and cut down, he had grown into himself as a person. It was probably a mixture of Puck spending more time around him and the boy's own growth that gave him a more three-dimensional personality in Puck's mind. Kurt still wore his 'lady-fabulous' outfits as he remembered Tina once describing him, but they looked more mature and more flattering to his actually-masculine body. Kurt was still passionate about fashion and broadway but it was somehow less irritating. Kurt still wanted solos in Glee club but he was not such a little bitch about it. Kurt was likeable, now, even in Puck's eyes.

Looking at this kid in front of him, though, Puck couldn't help but see him more as the haughty little prick with inappropriate crushes who wearing girl's sweaters and faggy kilts. Not because he annoyed Puck or whatever, but because he looked scared and hurt underneath his now-rarely-used mask of superiority. It kind of frightened Puck a little bit.

"Does Sue know you're quitting, yet?" asked Puck, stepping into Kurt's way just as he reached the door of Sue Sylvester's office.

"She will in thirty seconds if you would get out of my way," said Kurt in annoyance.

"You know second chances are rare with her, right?" asked Puck, wondering why his voice was sounding so desperate.

"Probably better than you do," replied Kurt, placing his free hand on his hip and giving Puck a displeased look.

"Then maybe you should think about this before you go storming in there to quit the most elite clique in William McKinley High," said Puck, crossing his arms over his chest and giving his own unimpressed look.

Kurt visibly deflated.

"I just... I just want my friend back," he said weakly.

Puck's eyebrows shot up.

"You're quitting for _Santana_?" he asked incredulously.

Kurt bit his lip and looked away from Puck, shrugging a shoulder noncommittally.

"Let me get this straight," said Puck, holding out a finger in a gesture that was much sassier than he had meant it to be. "You, _Kurt Hummel_, are backing down from a fight?"

Kurt closed his eyes and sighed.

"It isn't like that," he said, his voice suddenly sounding a little hoarse.

"Then what is it like?" asked Puck. "Because I'm sure you joined the Cheerios for a reason and it looks like you're just giving up."

"I don't owe you an explanation," said Kurt, opening his eyes and leveling Puck with an angry glare. "I don't owe _you_ anything!"

His eyes cool ocean-grey as they were, looked like they could shoot fire in that moment and his lip began to tremble. Puck ran a hand over the messy curls of his mohawk feeling terrible and useless and a little bit like he wanted to hug the boy in front of him.

"Kurt," he said imploringly.

Kurt just shook his head at him before turning to flee. Puck watched as he stormed off. Happy at least, that he had stopped him for quitting for the time being, but upset because of their confrontation. Of course Kurt didn't owe him anything, if anyone owed anyone anything out of the two of them, it was Puck owing Kurt. He owed him countless apologies and kind gestures to try to make up for the years he bullied and ragged on him. But, even knowing that, Puck hated how Kurt had said 'you' when he had said that. As if Puck was the lowest of the low. As if Puck was the most distasteful person Kurt had ever laid his eyes on. As if they weren't teammates on New Directions and had no connection. As if Puck had never stood up for him in the locker rooms when Karofsky and other guys were talking smack about him (not that Kurt knew about that).

Puck ground his teeth together and stomped angrily down the hallway in the opposite direction. He pushed open the doors that led out onto the football field and stomped across the grass toward the empty bleachers. He just needed a minute alone to clear his head. It was then that he noticed a familiar, but decidedly unfamiliar, figure standing with the group of grunge-girls who referred to themselves as Skanks. Puck narrowed his eyes and tilted his head to the side. He took a few steps closer to the group smoking under the bleachers.

"Quinn?" he called out hesitantly as he drew closer.


	6. Neanderthals

**Title**: Figure Study #23  
**Pairings**: Puck/Kurt  
**Rating**: R  
**Spoilers**: This is mostly AU...

**Warning:** Rude & Homophobic language. Bullying. Puck's internal dialogue. Raw and unBETAed

**Summary**: The summer before his senior year, Puck meets Mrs. Miller, an elderly lady. At her influence, he takes up a new hobby which inadvertently leads to a lot of lifestyle changes and personal growth for Puck. One of these said changes is his view of Kurt Hummel. _-Klainers can rest easy because there is no Blaine-bashing in this story. There was never Klaine in this verse._

* * *

**Figure Study #23**

**Neanderthals**

* * *

"Puck," greeted Quinn coolly after a few moments pause.

She smirked lazily, flicked the butt of her cigarette into the patchy grass, and sidled up to him in a demeanor foreign to the Quinn from the school year before. Puck was baffled.

"What's all this?" he asked, gesturing to her grungy outfit.

Quinn shrugged.

"I guess I just finally found myself," she drawled in a bored tone.

Puck's eyebrows shot up in affronted surprise. He wanted to comment but figured it wasn't the time. If Quinn wanted to play the pink-haired skid-kid for a while, who was he to judge? He'd been the resident 'bad boy' for past three years, after all.

"This why you haven't been showing up to glee?" asked Puck, instead.

Quinn shrugged, again. The gesture was quickly getting on Puck's nerves.

"Scared your new friends won't approve?" asked Puck, glancing past her to the small group of girls standing around under the bleachers. "Because you have a whole group of more understanding friends waiting for you in glee... ones that know how to bathe."

Huffing out a humourless laugh, Quinn just shook her head and grinned angrily at Puck.

"None of you care about me," she said before turning away to rejoin the other girls.

Puck frowned unhappily at her retreating back. He took it as the dismissal she intended it to be and turned to walk off in a different direction. He really didn't want to get involved in someone else's business, but he knew a little something about masks, and it was starting to seem like everyone in high school was wearing one. After seeing Quinn's new look and clique, he was already feeling a growing concern over her choice in masks. Maybe he'd bring up the subject of Quinn at next Glee practise... if no one else did first... _Maybe._

* * *

Football practise after school that day felt tense for some reason. No one said or did anything that stood out to Puck as being particularly out of the ordinary, but he just had a general sense of everything seeming _off_. Coach Beiste ran them through their drills until they felt they could barely balance on their feet and then pushed them further. When they had finally been dismissed to hit the showers, Puck's unease was quickly justified.

He had taken an extra long shower, his muscles sore from the work out and the hot water feeling great. After, he had toweled himself off before wrapping it around his waist and stepping into the locker room. He went to his locker, grabbed his bag out, and plopped down on the benches between the stands of lockers. That was when a shadow fell over him.

"What's going on, guys?" asked Puck, looking up from where he had been leaning down to rifle through his bag.

A group of his teammates were standing in a semi circle around him. They stood towering over him with matching scowls and sneers on their faces. Puck tensed, feeling surrounded and vulnerable sitting in nothing but a towel. One of the closer guys reached out, abruptly, and tore his bag from his grasp.

"What the fuck?" exclaimed Puck, moving to stand.

Another guy reached out and pushed down heavily on his shoulders so he plopped back down gracelessly on the bench. Puck angrily slapped his hands away but remained seated.

"We don't much like having one of our own turning fag on us," growled Azimo, stepping forward from the group to stare down at Puck.

Puck sneered up at him.

"Oh yeah?" asked Puck, his hands fisting at his sides.

"Yeah," called out Strando and a few other guys nodded in agreement.

"See, you're on the football team," explained Azimo. "So, to everyone else, you're considered one of us. We can't have the rest of the school –hell, the rest of the_ town_ thinking we've all turned soft just because _you've_ decided to be friends the all the geeks and fags."

Puck gritted his teeth and looked between Azimo, who was bending down and getting right in his face, and the rest of the guys. He wondered where Finn and Mike were and if they would back him up if things got messy. He knew there were a number of guys from the team missing at the moment, so it wasn't as though the _entire_ team was against him, but it was pretty close.

"So, consider this your warning," continued Azimo, angrily. "You make a mockery out of us; things gonna get all kinds o' messy."

Azimo and Strando turned to walk away and the rest of the group followed. Puck made sure to give them all his most menacing glares as they left. The guy who grabbed his duffle bag from him passed it to another guy who passed it to another. Puck reached for it but they just grinned at him and shook their heads.

"I'm surprised at you, man," said one guy who Puck didn't know well but thought his name might be Paul. "I thought you were cool."

Puck scowled at him, but called past him for them to give him his bag back. They laughed and disappeared out the locker room doors into the hallway, his bag still in their clutches.

"Fucking losers," he groaned to himself in frustration.

He listened to their laughter as it got further away and dissolved altogether before taking a deep breath and slowly expelling it through his nose. He stood up and paced the length of the lockers before growling in frustration and punching one of them. He hissed when he pulled his hand away from the impact. He was angry and so, so fucked. They were going to make his life miserable. He knew it. He had taught them most of what they knew in the ways of creative bullying, after all.

"This must be what karma feels like," he said softly but through clenched teeth.

He sighed and lowered himself back down onto the bench. If he had his jack knife, he could try breaking into one of the lockers to 'borrow' someone else's clothes. Of course, his jack knife was in his duffle bag. Puck leaned forward and let his head fall into his hands. Sure, he had a pretty 'hot bod', but he wasn't really relishing the idea of running around all of Lima in a towel. His mom would kick his ass if she had to pay to replace his football jersey, too. He was so mad he thought he might cry... and wasn't that just the strangest feeling?

He startled when he heard the locker room door swing open. Quickly, he arranged his face into an angry sneer and looked up to ask them if they chickened out and were bringing his bag back to ask for forgiveness, but his words died on his lips when he saw Kurt stride into the room. The boy stopped short when his eyes landed on Puck and widened.

"Uh, Hi," said Puck, awkwardly.

"Hi," replied Kurt, narrowing his eyes and continuing forward.

"What are you doing here?" asked Puck, crossing his arms over his chest, feeling exposed and a little bit chilly.

"Cheerio practise," said Kurt with a roll of his eyes.

"Oh, right," Puck attempted a laugh but it came out nervous and forced.

"What are _you_ doing here?" asked Kurt, setting his bag down on the other end of the bench and opening his locker. "Football practise ended nearly an hour ago."

"Just chilling," said Puck, trying a cocky grin.

Hoping he could try to look unaffected, he spread his arms out behind his head and leaning back on the bench.

"Chilly, anyway," said Kurt with an amused snort.

Puck glanced down at his pebbled nipples and goosebump-covered skin with a frown. He quickly crossed his arms over his chest again.

"I thought _I_ was supposed to be the one who spent copious amounts of time creeping in the boys' locker rooms," said Kurt in a light tone as he unzipped his bag and grabbed his practise uniform before putting the bag into his locker and shutting the door. "You aren't waiting around to watch all the cheerleaders change are you? Because you might be in the wrong locker room for your tastes."

"Don't talk like that," snapped Puck, gritting his teeth angrily.

Kurt spun around from his locker in surprise.

"What's going on, Noah?" he asked.

Puck looked away and rocked back and forth on the bench a few times, still hugging himself tightly, before finally speaking.

"The guys ran off with my clothes," he finally admitted.

Kurt pursed his lips but said nothing. They remained in silence for a few moments; Puck self-consciously hugging himself and rocking slightly on the bench, Kurt standing and staring at him with an unreadable expression on his face.

"They were just... being assholes," explained Puck with a small shrug. "No biggie... Just goofing off like guys do, you know?"

"No," sighed Kurt. "I don't know."

Puck frowned at that but didn't say anything else, not wanting Kurt to know he was getting bullied like some sort of geek. Kurt turned back to his locker and pulled out his duffle bag again. He set it down on the bench and pulled out a pair of grey sweat pants, a black tank top and a red and black zippered hoodie. He passed them to Puck before putting his bag back into his locker.

"The rest of the male cheerleaders will be here any minute," said Kurt. "I'm gonna change and head out to the field."

"You come early so you don't have to change in front of them?" asked Puck, holding up the clothes and nodding his head in silent gratitude for them.

Kurt shrugged a 'no problem' in response before pulling his sweater off over his head.

"More so that they don't have to change in front of me," he then answered, though it was muffled by the undershirt he was pulling over his head.

Puck pulled the tank top on and was surprised at how soft it felt against his chest. He ran a hand over his torso to feel the material before his brain caught up to what Kurt had just said.

"So even the guy Cheerios are douches to you about being..."

"Yeah," cut in Kurt. "What you think just because they are on a cheerleading squad that they are all gay?"

"Well," said Puck unfolding the sweat pants. "No, I guess not, but I figured they'd at least not be bigoted ass-wipes about it."

Kurt laughed humorlessly.

Puck frowned because of hurt in Kurt's bitter laugh. He unceremoniously dropped his towel and leaned down to pull on the sweat pants. Kurt had made sure to turn his face away from him when he had dropped his towel. Puck grinned when he noticed the faint staining of pink on the boy's cheeks. Then he grimaced when he realized how creepy it was that he was wearing the other dude's pants, and commando, no less.

"Are all your clothes this soft?" asked Puck, adjusting the waist band of the sweats before leaning down to grab the hoodie.

"Quality fabrics," Kurt said by way of explanation with an accompanying shrug of one shoulder; he was still blushing.

Puck balled up his towel and threw it toward the open hamper on castors standing in the far corner. He glanced over at Kurt who was pulling on the bright red pants of his cheerleading uniform.

"Hey, Kurt," said Puck.

Kurt looked over at him.

"Thanks."

Smiling, Kurt blindly grabbed for his top and pulled it on. Puck wondered when the last time he saw Kurt smile was, even just a slightly-forced polite one like the one he had just received. Kurt stood, adjusted his uniform so it was sitting on him perfectly, ran a hand through his hair, and then turned back to Puck.

"You're welcome," he said genuinely.

Despite his shitty day, Puck was smiling when he pushed out of the locker room. He frowned, though, when a few cheerleader guys walked past him in the hall.

"Stupid assholes," he said under his breath as he eyed them angrily.

He grabbed his homework from his locker and had almost made it to the front doors of the school when he realized his keys had been in his duffle bag. Growling angrily, he dropped his books to the floor and threw himself at the wall of lockers on his left.

"Fuck," he groaned, pressing his forehead against the lock before giving it a quick punch.

The jarring sound echoed through the empty hallways and when it died away there was no sound other than the ragged breathing of a truly upset boy. Puck closed his eyes and attempted a few cleansing breaths before finally pushing away from the lockers. With shaky movements, he bent down and picked up his mess of homework. Once he had everything neatly under his arm, He pushed through the front doors and out into the September sun.

It was a long walk home, but it gave Puck time to cool down. The guys didn't give a fuck about his stuff, they weren't thieves; they just wanted to piss him off. He figured that they probably ditched the bag somewhere outside the school as they dispersed. He resolved to head to school a little early the next morning and go searching for it before classes. He sighed as he turned down another road and trudged into his neighbourhood. He'd have to get up extra early to compensate for the walk.

"What took you so long?" snapped his mom when he pushed through the front door.

"Uh," stammered Puck, caught off guard by his mother's sudden words.

He glanced up at her to see her brandishing a spatula at him from the nearby kitchen of their cramped little house. The bulky TV in the living room was on with the volume much too high. He glanced over to see his sister sitting on the floor watching cartoons.

"Football practise when long," he finally managed to say to his mom.

"Where'd you get those clothes?" she asked, not placated in the least by his excuse but suddenly noticing what Puck was wearing.

"They're just my work out sweats," answered Puck with a shrug. "You should know, you do my laundry."

He walked past her toward the stairs and deliberately ignored her sceptical frown.

"I need you to watch your sister tonight," she called after him once he was trudging up the stairs. "I have a late shift, so no running off to the Millers' place."

"Fine," Puck yelled back, it wasn't like he really felt like walking all the way across town on foot, anyway.

"Damn jocks," he grumbled under his breath as he set his books on the foot of his bed before stretching out on it.

It felt strange being the one to say it, but, damnit, Puck was pissed at those _damn jocks_. He couldn't believe he had thought of them as friends for his first year of high school. They were morons. Kurt was right, they were neanderthals.

* * *

The next morning, Puck got up extra early so he could walk to school and be there early enough to do some searching around. He ended up finding his bag lying on the ground between the school's dumpsters, torn open and contents scattered. He was just happy the idiots hadn't been smart enough to grab the keys that were lying on the asphalt net to the bag and go joy-riding in his truck. He quickly pocketed the keys and then started shoving clothes and other belongings into the duffle bag. He walked out to where his lonely truck was parked in the almost empty parking lot, unlocked the truck, threw his bag inside, and then slammed the door shut. He locked the truck and then shoved his hands in his pockets and walked back toward the school. Vehicles were starting to pull into the school's parking lot as students and teachers arrived.

Puck dropped his textbooks off in his locker and then walked partway down the hallway toward Kurt's locker. He arrived at the locker just before Kurt, himself, did. Kurt gave him a bemused half-smile before turning his attention to the combination lock on his locker. Once he had the door open and his homework deposited, Puck held out the clothes Kurt had lent him the day before.

"Thanks, man," he said with an embarrassed grin. "You really helped a guy out."

Kurt eyed the clothes for a moment as if worried they would bite him before carefully taking them from Puck and placing them in his locker.

"I'm sorry I didn't wash them," apologized Puck as he leaned his shoulder against the locker next to Kurt's. "But I Febreezed the shit out of them."

Kurt wrinkled his nose at that and Puck couldn't help but think it was adorable.

"My mom banned me from using the washing machine last year when I flooded the house," continued Puck in explanation.

Surprise flashed across Kurt's face and he laughed out loud. The sound made Puck grin, even if it was at his expense. Kurt laughed for a while and Puck just grinned idiotically at him. He knew his face looked ridiculous, but he couldn't help the wide smile. It had been so long since he had seen Kurt look happy and carefree and he couldn't help but feel a little pride over the fact that he had been the one to do it.

"How on earth does one manage to flood the house when using the washing machine?" asked Kurt between chuckles as he wiped tears from his eyes.

"I dunno," replied Puck with a shrug and short laugh.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a few big guys in red letterman jackets walking slowly past. He frowned when he saw them staring at him with ugly scowls. That was when he realized just how flirtatiously he was situated, leaning against the locker, grinning stupidly at Kurt. It definitely had to look bad to them. He hated them and didn't want to care about what they thought, but they had already left him in the nude in the locker room only the day before and he really didn't want a repeat of that, or worse.

"I... uh," stuttered Puck, suddenly straightening and putting a bit more space between Kurt and himself. "I need to head to class... so... uh... I'll see you around. Thanks again."

"Yeah," replied Kurt, suddenly frowning. "Sure, but aren't you going to the same class as me?"

"Oh, right," laughed Puck nervously. "I just need to get my books."

He ran a hand through his mohawk in a nervous tick and it quickly directed Kurt's eyes up. Kurt wrinkled his nose and frowned. He closed his locker door and then moved to walk next to Puck down the hallway. They made a quick stop at Puck's locker where he grabbed his textbook and binder before they continued on toward their morning class. Puck glanced around anxiously and tried to figure out what distance he should keep from Kurt that would keep from stirring up shit with the jocks but not make Kurt feel like a leper.

"You need to cut that," said Kurt and the words startled Puck from his worries.

"What?" asked Puck, turning to look at Kurt in surprise.

Kurt glanced up at Puck's head and lifted his eyebrows in silent judgment.

"You really need to at least trim it," amended Kurt.

"Yeah, you're right," replied Puck after a beat. "I think I heard Becky say it looked like I stapled a dead squirrel to my head."

Kurt barked out a laugh before quickly covering his mouth with his hand. Puck glanced sideways just in time to see Kurt looking sideways at him with mischievous eyes.

"I think she's right," said Kurt with a grin.

"Hey!" exclaimed Puck, laughing and reaching his hands up to cover his hair as if to shield it from Kurt's cruel words. "That's bullying!"

"Sorry, the truth hurts," chuckled Kurt.

Puck grinned and they rounded the corner together, side by side. When they reached the classroom, Puck sat down in a desk next to Kurt. After Kurt had settled in his desk, he leaned over across the aisle and spoke to Puck in a stage whisper.

"But the good news is," said Kurt. "You have the power, Noah Puckerman."

Noah snorted in response and waved Kurt off.

"Yeah, yeah, okay," he said through chuckles. "I'll get a haircut."

Kurt smiled triumphantly before turning his attention to the front of the classroom where the teacher had begun addressing the class. Puck noticed someone moving in his peripheral and turned his head in time to see Strando shaking his head at him and pretending to slit his throat. The smile on Puck's face instantly dropped. He glared at the fat idiot before turning his attention to the teacher. _Neanderthal_.


	7. Betrayal

**Title**: Figure Study #23  
**Pairings**: Puck/Kurt  
**Rating**: R  
**Spoilers**: This is mostly AU...

**Warning:** Rude & Homophobic language. Bullying. Puck's internal dialogue. Raw and unBETAed

**Summary**: The summer before his senior year, Puck meets Mrs. Miller, an elderly lady. At her influence, he takes up a new hobby which inadvertently leads to a lot of lifestyle changes and personal growth for Puck. One of these said changes is his view of Kurt Hummel. _-Klainers can rest easy because there is no Blaine-bashing in this story. There was never Klaine in this verse._

* * *

**Figure Study #23**

**Betrayal**

* * *

"Puck!" called out a familiar voice, causing Puck to stop and turn his head.

Raine was jogging toward him from down the hall, her bright cherry lips pulled up into a big smile. Puck turned toward her, smiling a little. He glanced beyond her to see Taylor sauntering lazily toward him as well. The metal rings and buckles on Raine's leather jacket jingled as she bounced up to him.

"Hi!" laughed Raine when she reached him.

"What's up?" asked Puck, grinning at her enthusiasm.

"We here to collect on that threesome," said Taylor coolly once he had reached them.

Puck's eyes widened comically and Raine burst out laughing while Taylor smirked in amusement.

"He's teasing," assured Raine, patting Puck's arm in what she probably thought was a soothing gesture but Puck tensed a little at her touch.

Relieved and almost a little disappointed, Puck slowly let out the breath he had suddenly been holding. Taylor held out the two textbooks he had been carrying under his arm. Puck furrowed his brow and looked down at them. One was an orange soft covered book titled "The New Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain". The other was titled "Human Anatomy for the Artist" and had a very familiar drawing on it of a nude man in a circle with double arms and double legs.

"I've seen that before," said Puck, pointing at the drawing.

"Vitruvian Man," said Taylor.

"Um..."

"It's by Da Vinci," explained Raine with a smile. "Anyway, we thought you might wanna borrow these books. They could help you with your drawings for Art class."

Taylor shook the books just a little so Puck's wide eyes turned away from Raine and back to the books in his hand. Hesitantly, Puck reached to take them.

"Wow, thanks guys," he said, holding the books reverently. "That's awesome."

He flipped through the pages of the anatomy book before looking back up at Raine and Taylor.

"When do you want them back?" he asked.

"When you're done with them," said Taylor with a shrug.

Puck nodded, still stunned at the simple but thoughtful gesture. Taylor simply shrugged and put his arm around Raine's waist.

"See you in Art," said Raine, before they departed.

Puck watched them go holding the art text books under his arm and smiling wistfully. Taylor was only an inch or two taller than Raine. The girl seemed to fit against his side like they were cut from the same mold. Her white hair contrasted with his black and the way they were dressed complimented each other perfectly. They looked perfect for each other and always acted so comfortable together. Beyond being a hot couple, their personalities seemed to complement each other perfectly, too. They weren't just a couple, they were a team. He had to admit, he was a little envious of what they had.

When Puck entered the cafeteria that day, he planned to sit with Artie and the rest of his nerdy friends as per (_his new_) usual, but he quickly changed his mind when he reached the end of the lunch line and saw Kurt sitting with Finn and Rachel. His shoulders were slumped and his demeanor all wrong. He was leaning into Finn's space as if subconsciously seeking his step-brother's protection.

Artie gave Puck a small wave from his table when he caught his eye. Puck nodded his head in greeting but then titled it toward the 'glee table' to let him know his intentions. Artie shrugged in response not losing his smile and Puck was glad that he actually was close enough friends with someone that he could partake in wordless conversations like that. He used to be that close with Finn before... before all the issues with Quinn cropped up in sophomore year. Since then, though, he hadn't had anyone.

Puck hooked the toe of his sneaker around the leg of the plastic chair next to Rachel and pulled it out while simultaneously setting his tray on the table. He plunked down on the chair and gave the other three a sweeping grin.

"Hey Guys," he greeted them.

"What's up Puck?" answered Finn with an awkward smile.

Puck shrugged and took an extra-large bite of his sandwich. He chewed slowly and tried to inconspicuously look Kurt over for any signs of trauma. The jocks were being _asswipes_ to him because of his choice in friends recently, he worried that his being seen with Kurt the day before had caused extra trouble for Kurt, too. He didn't like how the boy was aimlessly stirring his salad instead of eating it or the way he leaned toward Finn. Kurt had been through hell during high school and Puck was certain anyone else wouldn't have handled it. Kurt was strong; it was one of the most amazing things about him. Seeing him like this just felt _wrong_ while it also served as a reminder to Puck just how much Kurt had grown in the past few years.

"We really need to find more recruits for Glee," said Rachel between bites of the sandwich she had brought from home. "This is our last year of high school and we can't just sit back as the choir competition season approaches. Guys, this is our last chance to win that national trophy."

Finn nodded and Kurt simply twirled his fork in his salad.

"I saw Quinn the other day," offered Puck, not sure why he was willingly participating in a conversation with Rachel, but he had also willingly sat down beside her so he might as well go all out. "We need to get her back into Glee club, pronto."

Kurt's hand stilled and Finn looked up from his pasta with a confused frown. Rachel glanced sideways at Puck and gave him a sad smile.

"I've already approached her about it," said Rachel. "She won't budge."

"I'm worried about her," confessed Puck softly.

He kept his face down after saying it, not wanting to see the others' reactions to his admission. He heard Finn shift around in his seat. It was obvious it was Finn, no one else managed to sound quite so clumsy at simply moving.

"What's going on with Quinn?" asked Finn after a few beats.

"She's joined the Skanks," explained Kurt, his voice flat but containing something akin to distaste.

"The what?" stammered Finn in alarm.

Puck looked up to see Kurt scowling down at his plate and Finn wearing his trademarked expression of confusion. Rachel sighed from beside him and he glanced sideways at her.

"You know the group of girls who smoke out under the bleachers?" asked Rachel.

Understanding began to dawn on Finn's face and Puck smirked as he watched the array of facial expressions that crossed his ex-best-friend-but-still-a-friend's face.

"You know," continued Rachel, her speech pattern building giving the rest of the table warning that a long-winded spiel was coming on. "I told her that smoking would negatively affect her voice and the depth of her breathing when she wants to belt out..."

"So what are we going to do to get Quinn to drop the whole Skanks routine and get back into Glee?" asked Puck, determined to cut Rachel off before she really got going. "Or even Cheerios, anything that'll keep her from being a Skank."

"Santana and Brittany already tried talking to her, too," said Kurt with a shrug and a sigh. "I don't think she's going to be easy to persuade on this."

"We'll think of something," said Rachel resolutely.

"Good," said Puck before turning his attention back to his sandwich.

Rachel began chattering about something else with Finn nodding and making sounds of agreement every so often. Kurt ate a few bites of his salad, but left most of it on his plate. Puck watched him worriedly while he ate. He wanted to ask him what was wrong, but didn't want to come off as _too_ concerned. As much as he'd like them to be, they weren't _really_ friends, after all.

After lunch they went their separate ways for classes. When they met for Glee practise after school, Rachel brought up the issue of Quinn and Puck was glad he hadn't had to do it in front of everyone. The group seemed to all be in agreement over the issue, but no one seemed very hopeful. It annoyed Puck that no one seemed game to actually _do_ anything but it, just like it bothered him that they all called each other friends and teammates but barely spent time together outside of glee club that year. What was going on with these kids?

Puck drove to the Millers' place instead of heading home once Glee had let out. Mr. Miller answered the door with a bright smile. Mrs. Miller was painting laughing stargazer lilies when he arrived. He stood in the doorway of the conservatory and watched as she added dots of blood red to the electrical pink and white petals of each lily. The colours were alive and even though the painting wasn't yet finished, it was breathtaking.

"I love it," said Puck, breaking the silence and walking into the room.

Mrs. Miller turned away from the painting with a shocked expression that quickly turned to a fond smile when her eyes landed on Puck.

"Noah," she greeted him happily. "I'm so glad to see you."

"Likewise, Mrs. M," replied Puck with a wide smile.

"It has been a while, tell me how Art is going," she demanded even as she turned back to continue her painting.

Puck sighed heavily.

"It's hard," he said. "We're doing drawing right now and I'm pretty sure the teacher hates me. He gave me a four out of ten on my assignment."

Mrs. Miller let out a sympathetic exhale and Puck nodded in agreement though she wouldn't see it being as she was facing her painting.

"Taylor and Raine promised they'd help me with it, though," continued Puck. "They even let me borrow these books."

Puck opened his backpack and pulled out the textbooks Taylor had handed him earlier that day. Mrs. Miller set down her brush and paint, wiped her hands with a cloth and moved over to Puck to see the books he was talking about.

"Oh," she said with a smile. "Those are good ones. Who are Taylor and Raine?"

"These kids in my Art class," answered Puck with a shrug. "They're cool, y'know? They were nice to me right away. It's good because I really didn't know anyone in that class. Everyone in there is all '_artsy_' and a little bit scary and the teacher is a grade A ass."

Mrs. Miller chuckled at that and patted Puck on the shoulder.

"Well, I'm glad to hear you're making new friends," she said. "You don't strike me as someone who has a lot of close ones."

Puck frowned and she just gave him a look as if saying _'don't take offense; it's just life'_.

"Yeah," conceded Puck with a sigh. "I'm getting closer with Artie, this guy in my glee club, but I don't really have friends. The guys I thought were my friends are being assholes to me lately. They don't like that I'm sitting with the _nerds_ at lunch and taking to the school _fag_."

"Noah," gasped Mrs. Miller. "Language!"

"Their words," defended Puck, raising his hands in a show of his innocence. "They never liked that I joined Glee a few years ago. It's hurt my badass reputation a bit, but this year everything has been way worse with them. They are saying that if I don't stop hanging out with the losers, they're going to... well, I dunno what they are going to do, but I bet it'll be shitty... sorry, I mean, bad."

Mrs. Miller raised an eyebrow at Puck and pursed her lips. Puck found himself wondering how she always managed to get so much information out of him and so easily at that. He just had to enter her conservatory and be surrounded by her art supplies and her whole '_grandma-essence'_ and words would begin falling from his mouth without abandon.

"I know that in the grand scheme of things, it doesn't matter if you were popular or whatever in high school," continued Puck, anyway. "But it really sucks to be at the bottom of the food chain while you're there."

"I was a cheerleader in high school," offered Mrs. Miller after Puck had gone silent for a few minutes.

Puck looked up sharply from where he had been idly running his finger over the edge of one of his books. She laughed at him.

"Don't look so surprised," she said, shaking her head.

"Sorry," replied Puck with a small grin.

"Everything was so superficial in high school," sighed Mrs. Miller, moving back toward her painting and picking up a paintbrush. "We were all so insecure about ourselves. It is a shame we put so much peer pressure on each other to be a certain way, it only made it harder for us to discover and come to terms with who we are. I both loved and hated being a Cheerleader. It felt good to be part of a team and really good at something. Plus, it got me a college scholarship. We put such high expectations on each other, though, such strict guidelines of how to look and how to act and who to be around. It was ridiculous. If I could go back with what I know now, I think I would have enjoyed high school a lot more than I had. You just have to do what makes you feel good about yourself and not worry so much about how it makes you look to others. If people judge you over trivial things like cliques and popularity, they're just idiots."

"Yeah," said Puck, thoughtfully.

He stood up and pulled out some paints and a palate.

"Too bad those idiots steal your clothes and leave you stranded naked in the boys' locker room," muttered Puck as he set to work on his own painting.

* * *

The next morning was Friday and Puck was so very glad for that. He was really looking forward to the weekend after the week he had. He was journeying down to the furthest part of the school for his morning Art class and feeling some of the tension leave his shoulders with every step and, when everything suddenly came crashing down around him. He had been actually looking forward to Art that day having spent a few hours reading through the text books and practising with his artist pencils and pad of paper the night before. He was more interested in showing Taylor and Raine what he had drawn than Mr. Tabay. He wanted to get their feedback and hopefully approval a lot more than he did the art teacher's.

His good mood evaporated, though, when he reached the door of the Art room to find all the Art students standing in the hallway looking upset and lost. Raine was hugging Taylor who was running his fingers through her hair and whispering to her. His face darkened when he glanced up at Puck.

"There he is!" exclaimed Mr. Tabay. "The man of the hour!"

"What?" exclaimed Puck, looking away from Taylor's angry face to be met with his teacher's hysterical one.

"Don't play dumb with me!" he cried out angrily. "I know it was you."

Puck gaped at him for a few moments before peering past him into the Art room. He breathed in sharply when he saw the state of it. The floor was covered in spilled paints, damaged canvases, broken easels, and pieces of destroyed models that they used for their still life drawings. There were a few other faculty members standing nearby, each eyeing Puck with disdain and anger.

"It wasn't me," exclaimed Puck in shock.

He turned to look back at Raine and Taylor for backup but they both just looked at him; Taylor angrily and Raine with sad disappointment. His stomach dropped. They couldn't seriously think it had been him. They had to know he would never do this! He thought they were his friends! Puck turned back to Mr. Tabay.

"I swear," he said.

"Thousands of dollars," exclaimed Mr. Tabay, throwing his arms out to the sides and flailing at the air.

"Hey," soothed another teacher. "It's okay. Let's go to the office and straighten this all out. Everything will be okay."

Mr. Tabay allowed her to lead him down the hallway in the direction Puck had just come.

"You!" he hollered back at Puck, pointing a shaky finger at him. "You're coming with us!"

Puck scanned the faces of all his classmates. They were each a mixture of anger, sadness and judgement. He set his jaw and trudged after Mr. Tabay and the teacher who was patting the crazy art teacher on the back soothingly. He could hear whispers behind him and it made him feel sick to know they were all talking about him. No matter what he did, he was still the first to blame; he was still the _Lima Loser,_ the problem child, the bully.

* * *

**AN: Sorry, I know it's a short update and probably is rougher than my usual 'roughness' when it comes to editing and grammar and whatnot. Crazy weekend has been crazy... hopefully you can still enjoy the update.**


	8. A Vote of Confidence

**Title**: Figure Study #23  
**Pairings**: Puck/Kurt  
**Rating**: R  
**Spoilers**: This is mostly AU...

**Warning:** Rude & Homophobic language. Bullying. Puck's internal dialogue. Raw and unBETAed

**Summary**: The summer before his senior year, Puck meets Mrs. Miller, an elderly lady. At her influence, he takes up a new hobby which inadvertently leads to a lot of lifestyle changes and personal growth for Puck. One of these said changes is his view of Kurt Hummel. _-Klainers can rest easy because there is no Blaine-bashing in this story. There was never Klaine in this verse._

* * *

**Figure Study #23**

**A Vote of Confidence  
**

* * *

"Now you listen to me," cried out Puck's mother in an angry voice that caused Puck and the rest of the occupants of the room to wince. "I know my son and if he says he didn't do it then he..."

Puck scowled as his mom trailed off, her voice starting to sound less sure than it had milliseconds earlier. He could bet that she was remembering all of the times she had been called to school over the years because of the trouble Puck got into. Perhaps she was even thinking of his brief stint in _Juvie_ for attempting to steal an ATM machine, or the time she caught a woman nearly her age in his bed with him, or the day she had to miss work to go pick him up from mall security after he had been caught in the women's dressing room, or any of the other times he had let her down.

He hated that she was wearing her scrubs, knowing it meant that she had been called away from work. They couldn't afford having her miss work, but here she had been called away from the hospital because of her son acting like an idiot, _again_. She worked as a laundry attendant which was how she met Carole and how Puck and Finn had become friends when they were little. The woman worked herself ragged at her job. She was a single parent with two kids to feed and clothe, and rent to pay. On top of being left to fend for herself by the idiotic father of her children, she was always and forever being forced to deal with her delinquent son. Puck wanted to scream.

"Well, I'm sure he didn't do it _this_ time," she finally finished.

She reached over and squeezed Puck's hand, smiling tightly at him. Puck frowned at her but squeezed her hand back. He knew he was a terrible disappointment to her. He _wanted_ to be better for her but he just couldn't seem to keep it together long enough to show her that he _was_ changing and maturing, that he _could_ be trusted, that he _wasn't_ his father's son. THAT was the worst of it. He _hated_ his father for leaving, for being an asshole, for treating everyone like shit, for being a complete deadbeat, but he couldn't help but think, to his horror, that he was exactly like him.

"Oh, it was him alright," exclaimed Mr. Tabay, glaring angrily at Puck from across the office. "He's been nothing but trouble since he started in my class. He thinks Art is just some big joke. Well it isn't funny, Mr. Puckerman, not one bit. And I'll see to it that you aren't laughing by the end of this."

"Are you _threatening_ my son, Mr. Tabay?" asked Puck's mom in a venomous voice.

"Alright, alright," cut in Principal Figgins, holding his hands up to silence them. "Let's not get excited. Mr. Tabay, do you have any evidence that this heinouscrime was in fact carried out by Noah Puckerman?"

"This sweater," started the teacher who had been consoling Mr. Tabay, holding up a grey hooded sweater. "Was found in with the mess."

Puck's jaw dropped as he took in the sweater the teacher was brandishing. It was light grey with the McKinley Spartans logo on the front and 'Puckerman' embroidered on the shoulder. He had been looking for that sweater. He hadn't seen it for a few days, not since the day the guys had surrounded him in the locker room after football practise... Puck's eyes immediately narrowed and he set his jaw angrily. He was being set up.

"He must have gotten overheated with the work it took to _destroy _all that expensive school property and took it off," said the teacher, waving the sweater around tauntingly. "Not so smart, now, huh?"

"This whole thing reeks of sabotage," growled Puck. "Are you really so _naive_ to think that I would be that stupid? Don't you think it's a little too _convenient_ that my hoody just happened to be left behind?"

"Is there any reason that Noah would want to do something like this?" asked Principal Figgins.

It looked like the man was trying very hard to keep his expression neutral, but Puck could tell Figgins wanted to side with the teachers. One doesn't visit the principal's office as many times as Puck had in his high school career without becoming the obvious choice when it was time to lay blame.

"Do teenagers really even need motives to do the stupid things they do?" asked the teacher who was quickly writing herself into Puck's books as a genuine _bitch._

"He was quite upset with me for the mark he got on his last assignment," said Mr. Tabay, his facial features beginning to draw into a thoughtful expression instead of their wild insanity. "Perhaps he wanted to teach _me_ a lesson."

Principal Figgins nodded slightly before turning his attention over to Puck.

"Is that it?" he asked, trying to sound understanding. "Did you feel like Mr. Tabay was marking you unfairly? You know there are other, less destructive ways to deal with these kinds of concerns."

Puck frowned at the principal as if he had bitten into something sour. When had this turned from a question of _if he had done it_ into a matter of _why he had done it_? He ground his teeth together and decided not to speak. It seemed they were going to draw their own conclusions no matter what he said, so there was no point in saying anything that could be twisted into a confession.

"Noah is in that class every other day," started his mom, suddenly. "Who's to say the sweater didn't get left there during class one day? That is not evidence enough to put the blame on my son!"

Principal Figgins nodded contemplatively.

"Of course, you are right, Mrs. Puckerman," he said with a sigh. "Until there is concrete proof that Noah is the perpetrator, it would be unfair of us to punish him for the crime."

Puck slouched a little in his seat, feeling both grateful for his mom and relieved by Figgins' declaration. Mr. Tabay gasped in outrage and jumped to his feet from the chair he had been sitting in. He slammed his hands down on Principal Figgin's large desk and leaned over it menacingly. Even from only just seeing his profile, Puck could see his eyes were wild with fury.

"Who will pay for the damages? Whp will clean up the mess? Who will replace all the easels and models and _my_ paints?" he cried out.

"I'm sure the school will be able to find the money in the budget to replace the items necessary for you to continue to teach the class," replied Principal Figgins evenly. "You'll just have to go without whatever can't be repaired or replaced on our dime until we do crack this mystery and find the person or persons responsible."

"Fine," exclaimed Mr. Tabay angrily. "Don't make him pay! But I am no longer comfortable having him in my class. I demand he withdraw from it."

All the blood left Puck's face and he stared dumbly at the spiteful teacher in absolute horror.

"But I need those credits to graduate," he croaked.

Mr. Tabay turned from Principal Figgins and rolled his eyes dramatically at Puck.

"I doubt you were going to pass anyway," he scoffed before turning to leave.

"Mr. Tabay," warned Principal Figgins, sharply, causing the man to pause in the doorway. "You can't _actually_ force Noah to drop your class."

There were a few tense moments of silence. It didn't feel very quiet, though, the silence in the room was deafening and so was the throbbing in Puck's head. He sucked in a breath and grabbed onto the armrests of his chair with a white-knuckle hold.

"You know what?" he managed to spit out without giving away how panicked he was feeling inside. "Fine. I'll quit your class. I wouldn't want have to spend any more time trying to learn from a selfish prick like you anyway."

Principal Figgins clapped his hands together and smiled brightly.

"Excellent," he said. "A solution."

Puck's mom raised her eyebrow at the principal as if asking if he were actually serious and then turned to frown at Puck.

"Are you sure about this, Noah?" she asked softly. "What are you going to do to get those credits?"

"I'll find a different class," answered Puck with a shrug. "Or maybe I'll take an online course or something. There's gotta to be other options."

"There's plenty," spoke up the principal with a bright smile and enthusiastic nod. "I can set up an appointment for you with the school counselor."

"Okay," said Puck, numbly. "Thanks."

* * *

Puck felt awkward as he walked his mom out to her car. He wanted to say something, but had no idea what. He wanted to know what she was thinking but was also scared of finding out exactly what it was. If he could just figure out the right thing to say, perhaps he could start to fix the rift that had formed between them. He glared down at the sweater in his hands, and instead let his mind drift over to the jocks and what he should do to get back at them.

"Look," said his mom once they had reached her battered old car. "This is your last year of high school and then you'll be able to do... whatever it is that you want to do with your life. Can you _please_ just try to stay out of trouble until then?"

The pleading tone of her voice and the resigned look in her eyes clenched at Puck's chest. She looked so tired. Puck frowned, then, her words suddenly sinking in.

"Wait, you don't believe me," he said, his voice rising with every syllable. "You think I actually _did _trash the Art room."

"Noah," sighed his mom, tiredly.

"No," exclaimed Puck, throwing his hands in the air and turning to stomp away. "You know what? _Screw you!_ My own mother doesn't even believe me! This is fucking _bullshit_!"

"Noah," said his mom with a little more strength. "Noah!"

Puck dropped his balled fists to his sides and turned to glare back at her.

"Please don't," she pleaded. "Just... don't."

"You want me to change?" asked Puck angrily. "How am I supposed to ever be anything other than a _loser_ if that's all anyone ever treats me as?"

His mom frowned at him; her lips pursed and her jaw clenched but her eyes looking like they could tear up at any moment. She finally just shook her head and sighed.

"I gotta get back to work," she said before pulling open the car's door and getting in.

Puck kicked angrily at a pebble on the asphalt of the school parking lot while he listened to the dull roar of his mom's shitty car as it drove away. He glared at the stupid sweater that had gotten him into the mess before throwing it as hard as he could to the pavement. The soft rustle it made as it landed wasn't anywhere near as satisfying as he had wanted. Puck let out a frustrated groan that was half growl before shoving his hands in his pockets and trudging back toward the entrance of the school.

Lunch break was nearly over when Puck finally entered the cafeteria. Everyone was eating or finished eating, so there was no line up when he grabbed a red tray. It also meant that there were barely any food options left. He grumpily accepted the mac-n-cheese from the hair-netted lunch lady and grabbed an apple and chocolate brownie at the end of the line before walking stiffly toward the 'glee table' where Kurt was, again, seated with Finn and Rachel.

"You look pissed," commented Finn as Puck dropped down into the seat across from Kurt just like the day before.

Puck just grunted in reply, quickly tucking in to the lukewarm pasta so he could fill his stomach before the bell rang to end lunch break.

"He's probably upset because of what happened to the Art room," said Rachel matter-of-factly and Puck froze.

"It's all over the school," explained Rachel at Finn and Kurt's curious expressions. "Someone ransacked the room. They destroyed everything and made quite the mess. I bet Puck's upset about that. I would be. I mean, can you imagine if someone did that to the _choir_ room?"

"I heard it was Puck who did it," sounded a soft voice from behind Puck.

Everyone looked up at the girl who had just spoken.

"Raine tell you that?" asked Puck gruffly.

Tina frowned before pulling out the chair next to him and sitting down. She leaned an elbow on the table and bodily turned toward him, resting her chin on her hand.

"Yes, actually," she said softly. "I told her there was no way you would do something like that... I hope I was right in saying so."

Puck grimaced at how unsure Tina sounded.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," he said quietly from between clenched teeth.

"Dude," gasped Finn, making Puck turn toward him. "You didn't, did you?"

"Finn," sighed out Kurt in exasperation with an exaggerated eye-roll. "_Of course_ he didn't."

At Kurt's words, Puck felt a warmth bloom in his chest that quickly covered the cold and bitter anger that had just begun to develop because of Finn's question. He smiled at Kurt and Kurt simply shrugged as if to say '_well, of course you didn't; I'm just saying the truth'_.

"I was framed," said Puck, simply.

Rachel gasped and touched his arm.

"Do you know by who?" she asked.

"Doesn't matter," said Puck, even though he was pretty certain he knew who had done it and he planned on getting them back. "It isn't like anyone is going to believe me, anyway. It's too easy to blame me for shit like this."

Kurt caught Puck's eye in that moment and Puck couldn't look away. He stared across the table into Kurt's blue-green-grey eyes, his breath caught in his throat. He felt like the other boy was trying to study him, or communicate something to him, or maybe even both. The problem was that he had no idea what Kurt might have been trying to communicate to him. When Kurt looked away, finally releasing him from his grip, Puck exhaled heavily and quickly glanced around the table to see if anyone had noticed.

Tina was frowning sadly at him and Rachel was giving reprimanding look. Puck dared glance back at Kurt to find him simply looking down at the magazine he had open beside his plate.

"I'll talk to Raine," Tina offered.

Puck simply shrugged, but he silently hoped she could persuade them of his innocence. He'd really like to have Taylor and Raine back on his side.

* * *

"So, it looks like you have French available during that class if you wanted to try that," started Miss Pillsbury as she stared down all wide-eyed at the class schedule in her hands. "Or we could try to move around a few of your other classes."

Puck groaned in frustration.

"I've already spent over two hundred dollars for supplies for Art class," he grumbled.

"Well, you're not officially withdrawn from the class, yet," she said in her small voice, hands trembling as she shifted through her papers. "Perhaps you could try to work things out with Mr. Tabay?"

"The guy's a jerk," said Puck angrily.

Miss Pillsbury swallowed and nodded her head quickly, her eyes having grown slightly wider at Puck's statement. She fiddled with the paper in her hands for a few minutes before finally looking up at Puck.

"Okay, Noah," she said carefully. "I'm not exactly sure what you want from me right now."

Puck let out a sigh before shifting in his seat in front of Miss Pillsbury's desk.

"You know what I asked Principal Figgins to set up my appointment with you instead of Mr. Jenkins?" he asked.

He continued when she shook her head.

"It is because you actually seem to care about us," he said. "All the teachers around here just see me as the troublemaker, but you seem to actually just see me as a kid. So, I was _hoping_ you could _actually_ help me out here, Miss Pillsbury."

Puck grinned when the corners of the redheaded woman's mouth began to twitch. She smiled a private little smile and nodded awkwardly to herself before meeting Puck's eyes with a determined grin.

"Alright," she said. "Tell me what you need."

Puck's grin only widened and he leaned back in his chair, starting to feel his frustration begin to leave the tense joints of his body for the first time that day since coming across the Art room.

"I want to take art," said Puck. "But I can't take it in Mr. Tabay's class because he's a _dick_ and would fail me out of spite. I've got all the supplies, I just need..."

"Distance Learning," said the guidance counsellor, brightly. "Often, if there's a class we don't offer here, you can take it through the American Distance Learning program. It is kind of like homeschooling or getting a college degree from home. You enroll, get your text book in the mail, and send in your assignments periodically. We have a few students here who take a class or two through it. You can use your free class like a study hall period and work on it then. I'll look into it for you, there might be different rules considering we actually do offer the class here."

"Thanks, Miss Pillsbury," said Puck sincerely.

"You're welcome, Noah," she said with a smile.

She passed Puck's class schedule back to him before quickly pumping some hand sanitizer into her palm. Puck gave her a little salute and crooked smile before sauntering out of her room. Everything was going to be just fine -well, at least the art part of it was. He still had to come up with a plan for getting back at the assholes who had done this to him.


End file.
